Long Live
by wishilivedinbooks
Summary: The Marauders - how they met, how they formed one of the closest friendships in the history of Hogwarts, and how they fell apart and ended in tragedy - from the beginning of their era to the end.
1. Chapter 1

**I've always wanted to write the Marauder's story, and I've finally decided to give it a shot, so . . . here it is. Tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: this world and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. **

Remus's mouth fell open as the owl deposited the letter in his lap. It couldn't have been a mistake – it was addressed to him – but who could possibly be writing to _him? _Then he noticed the crest on the letter and his eyes widened. "Father, I've got it," he said in shock.

"Got what, Remus?" asked Lyall Lupin without looking up from his work. His father had just gotten back from a job in Venezuela, where he had been called in to tackle a particularly nasty dark creature that turned out to be a lethifold.

"My Hogwarts letter," Remus whispered, not daring to believe it, and Mr. Lupin abruptly dropped his parchment and Muggle ink pen and came swiftly to his son's side.

"Hope," shouted Mr. Lupin into the kitchen, and a tall, slender woman appeared in the doorway, a dishcloth in hand.

"Is something wrong?" she asked worriedly, looking over her son to make sure he was perfectly intact. There didn't seem to be any obvious broken bones and he didn't seem to have damaged any furniture, although he did look a bit pale . . .

"He's got his letter," Lyall told his wife joyfully, grabbing her round the shoulders and spinning her round the living room in a very uncharacteristic manner.

Mrs. Lupin's eyes lit up as her face broke into a brilliant smile, ruffling her son's tawny hair as they waltzed past. It was moments like these that Remus relished, where they almost seemed like a normal family, and the worry and strain on his parents' faces vanished – moments where he looked at his mother and focused on her smile instead of the silver hair that was at odds with her honest, mischievous face.

Hope Lupin had once been very beautiful, with thick black hair, a good sense of humor evident in her face, a tall, slender stature, and green eyes, all of which her son had inherited with the exception of his hair color. These days, though, her hair was streaked with grey, her face was lined with signs of stress, and she never came home with a brand new book in hand and a story to tell about her day.

"Dumbledore has devised a way for Remus to attend school safely," Mr. Lupin informed them, frowning as he scanned the letter he had snatched up while Mrs. Lupin was busy beaming at her son. "It says here that he will speak directly to Remus regarding the matter upon his arrival at Hogwarts."

"Can I come with you to Diagon Alley?" Remus asked hopefully. The Lupins lived in a remote part of the Welsh countryside, and he never went with his parents to their respective workplaces, so he didn't often get to see people. Regardless, he was glad they didn't have to move around the way they used to anymore. He loved where he lived – the gorgeous mountains, the grassy valleys, the beautiful streams and rivers – it was all his to explore, and consequently Remus spent nearly all of his time outside, except on certain delicate days of the year.

"Of course you can," said Mr. Lupin firmly. His son was different, but he was no more dangerous than a regular eleven-year-old for the time being. "I've noticed you've become a little restless here."

There were only so many books Remus could take outside to read. Perhaps because of the ample amount of space, the Lupins' home was a sprawling manor reminiscent of the original Lupin Manor, which had been destroyed in a fire sometime in the eighteenth century. Most of this space was taken up by an enormous library that was filled with Muggle fantasies and epics, Wizarding fantasies and epics, histories, tomes on Transfiguration, volumes on Charms, anthologies on wandwork and magical theory and the Dark Arts and whatever else you could think of, and Remus had been steadily making his way through them all since he was four.

Because his parents were unsure of whether or not Remus would be accepted into Hogwarts, considering his condition, they had taken it upon themselves to homeschool him. He had never actually tried a spell (or at least, he wasn't supposed to have, but he secretly borrowed his father's wand sometimes to practice) but he probably knew more spells than any other child his age in Britain. Especially the Dark Arts and Charms, his father's two best subjects.

"Speaking of which," said his father suddenly, "it completely slipped my mind when I got back this evening, but I brought you something."

Remus's eyes glazed over in ecstasy. He knew what that meant. "Chocolate," he sighed happily.

Mr. Lupin grinned boyishly and produced a bar of chocolate from his pocket, his high spirits rising even higher when Remus pounced on the proffered edible heaven. They spent the night in celebration, and Remus went to bed happier than he'd been in a long time.

His father was not as rich as most purebloods, having been disinherited for marrying a Muggle long ago. His mother was Muggle, and had never seen so much as a knut before she married Mr. Lupin, an act that got her cut off from her family because her husband was a "good for nothing, lousy fellow with no job and no plan but to leech off our family's hard-earned money." As much as this made Hope want to strangle herself, she supposed she could hardly tell them, "Oh, no, he's actually a world-renowned dark creature hunter with a considerable inheritance from his rich, practically royal family. Also, he's a wizard."

They'd have thought she was mad, a good sensible young woman such as herself (who also married a leech, apparently, but it seemed there was no accounting for taste).

Remus folded his chocolate wrapper and placed it in the drawer full of his other chocolate wrappers. He kept them because they were gifts from his father – a man who had always tried to make him comfortable. A large part of the Lupin fortune had gone into research for cures for his condition, and the Lupin family had sort of just disappeared off the map in wizarding society.

Still, his father brought home chocolate from all over the world for him, and his mother would often walk home with stories – and these were two things Remus craved that he could remember loving since before his condition – chocolate and literature. He'd always had an avid love of learning; an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. He was sure he'd be a Ravenclaw – that is, if he wasn't kicked out of school and told that his acceptance had been a terrible mistake.

Hogwarts terrified the hell out of Remus; the thought of having to endure his condition alone, without the support of his parents, the only two people who'd ever loved him even after his condition . . .

What Remus lacked in wealth, he had in love. Besides, it wasn't as if he was poor. He was just poor by pureblood standards (which was probably quite rich by other wizards' standards). They had been all right before, but the money they spent on Remus's treatments, looking for cures and ways to lessen the pain, paying a Healer ridiculous amounts of money to see to Remus despite his condition – it had all taken a toll on them. . . and yet somehow, his father managed to bring home little trinkets for him that would have meant nothing to another child but meant the world to Remus.

So it didn't matter to him that he could never live a normal life, nor ever have friends who accepted him. He would brave it all, because this was an opportunity he would risk everything for.

"It wasn't your fault, what happened when you were four," his mother would say. "Don't let anyone tell you you're a monster, Remus. The world is cruel to those who are different, but remember that we love you."

He was lucky to have parents like that. He was lucky to be admitted into Hogwarts. He was lucky he was free.

He was _lucky _to have things other children took for granted, even though he had never hurt anyone, appreciated everything he had, and tried desperately to be kind – because he had something to atone for, didn't he?

After all, he was a werewolf.

* * *

"Don't embarrass us," Walburga Black instructed her eldest son. Sirius nodded woodenly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. "Don't let a mudblood sit near you. Don't consort with Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs. Stay away from half-bloods. Make Slytherin House proud."

"Yes, Mother," said Sirius. He didn't look up.

"Good." The woman turned her back on her son without another glance, but she paused in the doorway. "Kreacher has already packed your trunk. There is something else for you, as well."

Sirius looked up at that. A present? He never got presents. Maybe. . .

"It is Slytherin green," Walburga continued, and he felt his heart sink horribly. "You will make us proud."

It wasn't a declaration of faith. It was an order with a threat behind it. Sirius kicked the floor half-heartedly as his mother left, curling his hands into fists.

He had been to Diagon Alley with his parents once, when he was eight and Regulus was six. It had been around Christmas time, and he had seen a young muggle-born girl fall down and skin her knee. Her father had cleaned the cut with his handkerchief and told her, "Careful, darling. Come on – what was that shop you wanted me to take you to? I don't know much about these magical things; you'll have to choose your own present."

When Sirius had been seven, he'd taken Regulus outside to play against his father's wishes and it had started to storm. They had been caught in the cold, shivering and jumping at the thunder, and his parents had refused to let them in until he "learned his lesson." When he fell, his mother would snap at him, "Get up; Blacks don't cry." He had never celebrated a holiday before, not even his birthday.

But it wasn't until that day in Diagon Alley that he wondered what it would be like if his parents loved him. He was pureblood and rich – he had all the wealth in the world; he could take a bath in galleons every day if he wished. But he had never felt love from his family – except for Regulus. His brother was the exception.

That day was the day he stopped calling muggle-borns mudbloods. He _envied _them.

". . . Sirius?" a small voice asked.

He looked up to find his brother standing uncertainly in the doorway, his dark hair rumpled and his eyes bleary with sleep. "I don't want you to leave," confessed his brother, biting his lip. It was an unusual show of vulnerability from him – there was no room for vulnerability in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black .

Sirius smiled a little. "I'll see you again over Christmas break," he assured Regulus, ruffling his hair.

"I want to go with you."

"You'll be there next year. I'm sorry I'm leaving you alone here, but I can't very well refuse to go, can I?" Sirius asked his brother. "Go back to sleep, Reg." He made his way out the door, but before he could take more than a couple steps, Regulus flung his arms around Sirius from behind, crushing his brother in a tight hug.

"I'll miss you," said Regulus into Sirius's shoulder, and Sirius grinned a little in spite of himself.

"Yeah. I'll miss you too."

* * *

"Of course I'll be there, James," promised his father, surprised that his son would think otherwise.

"You . . . you don't have Auror work?" James asked unsurely. It was very uncharacteristic of him.

"James," said his father gently, kneeling in front of his son. "I'll always have Auror work. What I do saves lives, you know. But don't ever think for a moment that you are not more important to me than any of that. I'd never miss something that was truly important to you, all right? Now, tell me, are you nervous?"

"Of course not," scoffed James, regaining his old attitude. "I'm going be a Gryffindor – just like you and Mum!"

His father grinned at him, tapping the rim of his glasses. "That's my boy," he said affectionately, and James allowed his father to give him a hug.

* * *

"Hufflepuff's a great House, Peter," his mother told him. "You'll do well in it."

Peter looked at the ground. He wasn't going to be a Hufflepuff, like his father, or a Ravenclaw, like his mother, despite what they both seemed to think. He wasn't _kind. _He wasn't just. He wasn't honest, or a hard worker.

He was just Peter.

What he really wanted to do was run away and never go to Hogwarts; never get sorted. He was sure that the Sorting Hat wouldn't know what to do with him. The hat may have been able to read his mind and look into his soul or whatever it did, but even Peter had no idea what to make of himself.

He had never been particularly good at magic, had never had many friends or been well liked. He was skinny, with wispy blond hair and a small, elfish face. His front teeth stuck out, he was short for his age, and he wasn't clever.

If there was a House for those quaking in their shoes, that would have been the one to place him in. They didn't have an anti-Gryffindor House, did they? He supposed Slytherin was anti-Gryffindor, but he wasn't ambitious, either. He tried to imagine it: Peter Pettigrew, Slytherin House – house of the snake, house of the cunning, enemies of Gryffindor, blood purity elitist – his father was muggle-born!

"Peter," said his mother softly, eyeing her son shrewdly. She had a good idea of what was going through his head at the moment. "Don't worry about tomorrow. What will happen will happen, and your father and I will be proud of you no matter what."

Peter fell asleep that night with those words ringing in his head.

_Your father and I will be proud of you. No matter what. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: this world and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. **

"Can I sit here?" James asked the wild haired boy in front of him. The boy arched a brow at him haughtily.

"Is there anything stopping you?"

Laughing, James dropped into the seat opposite the boy. "I'm James."

"Sirius," returned Sirius, surveying James critically. His hair looked as if it had never seen a comb in its life, and he carried himself with an easy confidence.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" asked a voice. A redheaded girl with startling green eyes was pushing the compartment door open. She looked like she'd been crying. When James and Sirius nodded, she sat down and was immediately followed by an unfortunately pale, skinny boy with black eyes and greasy black hair.

If James's hair looked as if it had never seen a comb, this boy's looked as if it had never seen shampoo, Sirius thought.

"I don't want to talk to you," the girl told the boy tightly.

"Why not?"

"Tuny h-hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore."

"So what?"

The girl gave the boy a deeply disdainful look. "So she's my sister!"

"She's only a –" the boy broke off quickly, casting a look at the girl, who didn't appear to have noticed his hesitation. "But we're going! We're going! We're off to Hogwarts!"

She nodded, giving the boy a half smile as she dried her tears.

"You'd better be in Slytherin," said the boy.

"Slytherin?" James repeated incredulously. "Why would anyone want to go there? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" He looked at Sirius, whose smile disappeared.

"My whole family's been in Slytherin," he confessed, a bit defiantly.

"Blimey, and I thought you seemed all right!"

Sirius shrugged. "Maybe I'll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

James grinned and leapt to his feet, brandishing an invisible sword. "Gryffindor, 'where dwell the brave at heart!' Like my parents, and the rest of my family."

The boy made a disgusted noise, and James narrowed his eyes at him. "Got a problem with that?"

"No," the boy said, sneering. "Though if you'd rather be brawny than brainy –"

"Where would you like to go, seeing as you're neither?" Sirius interrupted. James doubled over with laughter, and the redheaded girl glared at him angrily.

"Come on, Severus, let's go find another compartment," she sniffed, marching out.

"See you around, Snivellus," James drawled as the pallid boy quickly followed the girl out of the compartment.

"Sirius Black!" Professor McGonagall called, and James felt his mouth drop open in astonishment. Sirius was a _Black? _

He was a hatstall. James caught an older blond haired student staring at Sirius through narrowed eyes from over at the Slytherin table; she appeared to be related to him. After a minute of hushed silence, the hat declared, "GRYFFINDOR!"

James's mouth, which he had snapped shut only moments before, dropped open again, but he closed it hastily when he saw Sirius, who was confidently moving towards the Gryffindor table with his chin tilted haughtily up, glance at him with an almost pleading look in his dark grey eyes.

James immediately grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up, and Sirius grinned back. He watched with interest several minutes later when "Lily Evans" was called up – it was the redhead from the train. After a few moments, she was sorted into Gryffindor, and she gave Snivellus an apologetic look.

James zoned out until another Gryffindor, a "Remus Lupin," was called. He was a nervous-looking, pale boy, though not nearly as pale as Snivellus had been. Hardly five seconds had passed before the hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Finally, it was time for the boy before him to go. "Peter Pettigrew!" He was another hatstall. James waited impatiently as the hat took hours to sort the boy. Eventually, he was sorted into Gryffindor.

"James Potter," said Professor McGonagall, and James made his way up to the hat. It hadn't even touched his head before it yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Pleased, he made his way to the Gryffindor table and took a seat beside Sirius, with the other first year, Remus, on his other side. "Why didn't you tell me you were a Potter?" Sirius hissed at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were a Black?" James retorted.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Would you? It's not exactly something I'm proud of, mate."

"Hmm," James agreed thoughtfully. "My parents hate your family."

"Well, my parents hate _your_ family," Sirius returned, "although I wouldn't take it personally. They hate anyone decent. Probably why they loathe me so much."

"Do they really?" James asked curiously.

"Well," Sirius allowed, "not really. They've never been the most affectionate, but I s'pose I'm not too bad off. They'll definitely hate me now, though. Getting sorted into Gryffindor – imagine the shame upon our family name! Sirius Black, eldest son and heir to Orion and Walburga Black, sullying the name of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black!"

"A bit dramatic, wouldn't you say?" James inquired dryly.

Sirius shrugged. "Everything's dramatic with my family. It's all, 'Oh, the shame upon our pure, undiluted blood! That good for nothing Andromeda if fooling around with that filthy Ted Tonks!' Not to mention, 'What a _good _little girl young Bella is. She's married Rodolphus Lestrange like a proper young lady!'"

James arched his eyebrows. "'Fooling around with that filthy Ted Tonks?'" he repeated. "Honestly, you'd think he was a werewolf or something." Beside him, Remus Lupin made a strangled noise, and James looked at him curiously.

"Are you all right?" The boy nodded weakly, looking even paler than before. "Well, hang on there. The food's almost coming, and my father told me it's great. You could use some; you look a bit sickly. Remus Lupin, was it?"

The boy nodded again, and James grinned easily as the feast appeared in front of him and Dumbledore finished his speech. "Merlin, this smells good. I'm James Potter, and this –" he turned to point at Sirius, only to find him shoveling food in his mouth faster than a Seeker after the snitch.

". . . is Sirius Black. . . have you never seen food before? What, do your family starve you?" James demanded incredulously.

Sirius didn't look up from his food. "On'y s'm'times," he managed to get out around a mouth full of chicken.

James turned to Remus, whose color was slowly returning as he dug into his potatoes. "Have you _ever _seen anyone eat like that?"

"Yeah," Remus joked, calming down a little. _Act natural. _"My dog."

Sirius finished off his plate and piled food on top of it again as James wondered how he'd managed to finish the first so fast. "Well, Sirius _is _the Dog Star."

"Interesting name," Remus murmured thoughtfully.

"My whole family's named like that. It's a tradition – we have Bellatrix, and Andromeda, and my little brother, Regulus, and my father, Orion, and my grandfather, Arcturus, and then there are loads like Great-Great-Uncle Cygnus and his children, Great-Uncle Pollux and Great-Aunt Cassiopeia – although, he also named his other daughter Dorea, which is all right. Hey, I think she married a Potter."

"Dorea Black and Charlus Potter are my parents," James said in amazement. "We're distantly related!" _Of course, all the pureblood families are, _he thought to himself a moment later.

"All the pureblood families are," Sirius said dismissively, waving a hand. "Does that make you my uncle?"

"I can barely understand what you're saying, young Sirius," James told him sternly. "Listen to your Uncle James and eat like a human being."

Sirius snorted. "I never listen to my family," he informed James. "They're all insane. Except for Drommie, and she got disowned for running off with her boyfriend."

"Marlene McKinnon, don't!" said a voice from the other side of the table loudly, cutting through their conversation, and Sirius and James turned to find the redhead gaping at her friend.

"I think I've got a McKinnon as a relative, too," Sirius mused.

"All right there?" James asked the redhead. "Evans, wasn't it?"

Lily narrowed her eyes at him, and Marlene told him, "She's a little touchy because I insulted her weird Slytherin friend over there." She pointed to a boy.

"That's Snivellus," James recalled, and Lily cast him a dirty look.

"His name is _Severus_, you arrogant toerag," she snapped. "Severus Snape."

"Yes, and that's so much better, isn't it?" Sirius asked snidely, and Lily turned her glare on him before turning away haughtily to talk to the black-haired girl on her other side, Alice Prewett. "Alice Prewett – the niece of Ignatius Black and Lucretia Prewett, I think."

"Ignatius," James murmured thoughtfully. "Named after the famous Ignatius Peverell? I'm descended from him, you know."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "How would you know?"

James though of the invisibility cloak his father had given him before he left for Hogwarts. "You're not the only one who's memorized his family tree," James said instead.

"First years, follow me!" called a voice suddenly, and Sirius gaped as the food vanished.

"I wasn't done with that!" he protested, and James gave him a skeptical look.

"If they waited for you to finish, you'd eat out the kitchens, _and _the school year would be over."

They made their way up to Gryffindor Tower, bickering good-naturedly the whole way up.

"The password is _pipponippynipipopus_," the Gryffindor Prefect informed the first years, sounding delighted. "If you don't remember that, you're going to be locked out of the Tower, I'm afraid, but hopefully you won't be eaten by any of the beasts that can occasionally be found wandering the hallways."

Remus was not particularly frightened at the prospect of beasts roaming the corridors, considering he was one himself, but most of the other first years looked absolutely terrified. Sirius and James stopped bickering and stared open-mouthed at the prefect.

With a self-satisfied smile, the Prefect pushed open the door and led them into the common room. It was a lot like the drawing room in the Lupin Manor; the scarlet-and-gold theme obviously was a result of Remus's father's Gryffindor pride.

There were two other boys in their dormitory; Peter Pettigrew, an unremarkable blond-haired boy and Frank Longbottom, a tall, brown-haired boy. They were all silent as they collapsed into bed, lost in their own thoughts.

And thus began what were possibly the best years of any of their lives.

* * *

"Okay, okay," said Lily, giggling a little. "I'll go first. Well, you already know my name –"

"Say it!" interrupted Alice sternly.

"Lily Evans," she complied, rolling her eyes. "And . . . er . . . well, I'm originally from Northern Ireland, and my Mum and Dad have both got the accent and everything, but I've grown up Canterbury. I've got a sister, Petunia, but she hates me because I'm a witch. And Sev was the one who told me I was a witch –"

The other girls exchanged glances. "He's not that bad," Lily said defensively.

"I'm sure he isn't," Alice agreed instantly, daring the other girls to argue.

"I dunno . . ." Dorcas trailed off, looking at Lily dubiously. "Well, he's just a little strange – awfully pale, and doesn't seem to wash his hair much, and for a Slytherin he's not _posh _enough, y'know?"

Marlene snorted. "Right, because that Horace Morris character was absolutely charming. If you ask me, it's a requirement for Slytherins to be horrible people."

"They can't all be bad!" Lily protested. "And that Horace bloke . . . well, I can't really say anything to defend him. I ran into him on the train when I was buying myself one of those chocolate frog things, and he was absolutely awful!"

"What happened?" Hestia asked curiously.

"Well, I asked the trolley witch what Drooble's was, and Morris got all snide and said, 'A mudblood, hey? If this is the filth buying these snacks, I sure as hell won't.'"

A collective gasp went around the room. "That's horrible!" Hestia cried indignantly. "What an awful thing to say to someone! Don't listen to him, Lily, he's obviously a prat."

Marlene nodded. "Slytherins, I'm telling you. Why don't you go next, Hestia?"

"Well, I'm Hestia Jones, and I've got a little sister who's three, and I'm from Hereford. My whole family is a bunch of Quidditch fanatics, so naturally I've got to be a Beater for Gryffindor next year. Er. . . I think that's it, actually."

"Lovely! I'm next," Marlene declared. "Marlene McKinnon; I'm Scottish, I haven't got any siblings, and I shall also play Quidditch. I'm a Chaser."

"Alice Prewett," Alice said airily. "I've got a cousin here at Hogwarts – her name's Molly Prewett – and I've often been told I'm slightly crazy."

They waited for her to continue, but she seemed to have finished. "All right, then. I'm Dorcas Meadowes, a lovely Welsh girl with no siblings and no desire to play Quidditch. Er . . . well I suppose I've got parents . . ."

"Merlin's pointy hat," Marlene drawled sarcastically. "She's got parents. This girl is a bloody miracle, I tell you. Who would have thought?"

"Shut up, Marlene," Hestia said easily, throwing a pillow at the girl. This, of course, started a massive pillow fight that involved the use of a lot of profanity (Marlene), a sense of vindictive abandonment (Lily), pure, undiluted glee (Alice), much flaunting of Beater-worthy aim (Hestia), and a set of unexplainably flaming bed curtains (Dorcas).

It was one of the few times that the Gryffindor boys were calmer than the girls.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I didn't update as fast as I usually do, and I'll probably only update on weekends now that school is ending and finals are coming up.**

**Disclaimer: this world and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.**

"Evans, Lily," said Professor McGonagall, and she stood up eagerly to get her class schedule.

As she sat back down again, she glimpsed Sev staring at her and waved him over. He looked slightly green at the suggestion and turned to talk to the Slytherin boy beside him, pretending not to have seen her. Lily couldn't help but feel slightly hurt, and she turned dejectedly to Alice, who had seen the whole thing.

"We could go over there if you'd like," Alice offered. She nudged Hestia. "Right, Hes?"

"Mmm," Hes mumbled distractedly, concentrating on her bacon. "Oh, this is delicious . . ."

"Isn't it?" Marlene asked excitedly, taking heaping piles of everything. "It's bloody perfect!"

"Language, Miss McKinnon," Professor McGonagall reprimanded. "Longbottom, Frank." At that moment, the schedules caught fire, and McGonagall let out a shriek of surprised.

"Sorry, Professor," Dorcas blurted out, grabbing a pitcher of water and dumping it over the schedules. James Potter and Sirius Black were snickering madly at this. "I just waved my wand and it happened . . ." She waved her wand to demonstrate, and the sopping schedules somehow caught fire again.

Looking horrified, Dorcas reached blindly for a jar and tossed it over McGonagall. Unfortunately, the jar turned out to be filled with honey that had oozed out of the jar in great lumps and was now slathered all over the Head of Gryffindor House.

"Sorry, sorry," Dorcas said frantically. Potter and Black were now howling with laughter, and Hestia gave them a disapproving look before leaping to her feet, taking a pitcher of pumpkin juice, and dumping it over McGonagall.

When Dorcas looked at her askance, she leaned in and whispered, "So she won't be mad at you alone."

Lily, who had heard, was torn between laughing and being scandalized on behalf of the professor. Marlene made up her mind for her when she looked up from her food, surveyed Professor McGonagall, now seething and singed and drizzled with honey, pumpkin juice, and water, and commented mildly into the stunned silence that had fallen, "I wonder what that tastes like."

Dorcas Meadowes lost twenty points for Gryffindor that morning.

* * *

Their first class was Potions with the Slytherins, who did not seem to get along with the Gryffindors at all. The Slytherins sat on the left side of the class, and the Gryffindors sat on the right, all avoiding each other – everybody except for Lily Evans and Severus Snape, that was.

The class itself was taught by a short, portly man who introduced himself as Professor Horace Slughorn. Immediately, a Slytherin on the other side of the room called out, "My name is Horace, too, Professor! My parents were Slytherins, and they named me after you!"

This was distinctly a lie. Peter had overheard Horace Morris bragging to the other first year Slytherins about how he was named after the great Horace the Hearty, who had slayed a horrible dragon and saved the lives of an entire village.

If there was one thing Peter had learned how to do, coming from a wizarding family living in a Muggle town, it was how to fabricate excellent lies without ever being caught. He was an almost impressively average person, so he blended in, and therefore tended to hear things that helped him exploit other people's weaknesses.

The hat had strongly considered sorting Peter into Slytherin, but had ultimately decided on Gryffindor with a few parting words: _this house could very well turn you into something great, Peter, if only you learn to stay true to a Gryffindor's ideals and above all, be brave. _

"Excellent!" boomed Slughorn, looking very pleased. "Your parents wouldn't happen to be Laurice and Doris Morris, would they?"

"Yes!" Horace said proudly. "And my cousin was Dolores Morris; she graduated a few years ago and is now married to Callum Umbridge – perhaps you've heard of him; he's very high up in the Ministry. She was a Slytherin too."

"Some of my favorites," Slughorn declared, winking at Horace. Peter felt slightly nauseated. The professor finally turned his attention to the rest of the class. He went on to give them a brief introduction and a preview of the topics they would cover that year. "Now, to get to know your partners in this class you will fill out a questionnaire . . ."

Peter turned to the pale kid beside him, Remus Lupin – they hadn't yet spoken to each other, but he seemed nice enough. "All right . . ." he said awkwardly. "Er, what's your favorite subject?"

"How are we supposed to know?" Remus demanded, staring at the questionnaire. "We haven't started any yet!"

"I'll just write 'not Divination,' then," Peter joked, and was rewarded with a smile from the other boy. Encouraged, he looked back down at the paper. "Merlin. This is just enough information you'd need to figure out how to kill someone! 'Can you swim . . .'"

Sirius Black, who had heard, turned gave him a look. "We're _wizards. _I'm fairly certain you'd survive getting tossed in the Black Lake."

Peter flushed slightly. Young wizards often did accidental magic in life-threatening circumstances, he knew.

"So how many siblings do you have?" Remus interjected kindly.

Peter gave him a grateful smile, and they spent the rest of the lesson working on the questionnaire.

* * *

"I thought you were supposed to talk to me last night after the feast," Remus said in confusion, wondering if he was being rude.

"I fear I got rather tied up last night, Mr. Lupin," said Dumbledore gravely. "Now, as this is a matter of utmost importance I must ask you to pay attention. This tree is called the Whomping Willow. It is designed to keep any who dare approach away. If one were to approach it, it would attack them. To get past it, all you must to is touch that knob there. Inside is a shack, and that is where your transformations will occur."

"But what if I –"

"It is perfectly safe, Mr. Lupin." Dumbledore looked him in the eye. "As long as you tell no one and do as I say, everything will be fine. But I must impress upon you the importance of caution and restraint, is that clear?"

Remus nodded woodenly, and the Headmaster looked up. "Ah. Poppy," he said, "this is the boy. Mr. Lupin, this is Madam Pomfrey of the hospital wing. She will bring you down here for your transformations and come to collect you in the mornings. She will also take care of your wounds."

"Thank you," Remus said softly, looking at the young, dark-haired mediwitch.

Madam Pomfrey smiled at him. "It's no trouble, dear. Now, if I'm not mistaken, the first full moon is on –"

"It's in three days," Remus interrupted. "September 5 – this Sunday."

Madam Pomfrey turned to look at the pale, skinny boy in front of her with new eyes. "That soon?" she asked, surprised.

Remus nodded. "That's why I've started to look like this. You can't really tell now, but on Sunday I'll look as if I'm dying."

To his surprise, the mediwitch had a compassionate, sorrowful look on her face. "I'm sorry, dear. That's all, then. You're free to go. Run off to your friends."

Avoiding the two professors' gazes, Remus headed quickly in the direction of the castle. _Run off to your friends. _He hadn't expected to have any, and he was right, although it _was _only the first day of classes.

The Gryffindor girls especially were already getting on well, and James Potter and Sirius Black seemed to have struck up a quick friendship that had strengthened after discovering that Black was incredibly skilled at flying, and James Potter just might become the best Chaser in the history of Hogwarts when he made the team next year. Frank Longbottom and Peter Pettigrew, the other two Gryffindor boys in his dorm, tended to keep to themselves, like him.

So far, Remus had most enjoyed flying. He may not have had the incredible natural affinity for flying that James Potter had, or even the easy talent Sirius possessed, but he had never been bad and had had loads of practice at flying, because there wasn't a Muggle (or anyone else) for miles around where he lived. He didn't want to draw attention to himself, however.

His classes went well. So far in their year, he, Lily Evans, Severus Snape, James Potter, and Sirius Black seemed to be the best at magic. Like Remus, Lily Evans, was particularly good at Charms, and she and Severus Snape were brilliant at Potions. James Potter was a natural at Transfiguration, and he, Sirius Black, and Severus Snape were all exceptionally talented in DADA.

Unfortunately for Remus, while he was very good at the other subjects, he had managed to set Peter Pettigrew on fire in double Potions on Friday when Dorcas Meadowes had joined their group because Alice Prewett, her partner, was in the hospital wing after injuring herself on a trick step on one of the staircases. (This may have partly been the fault of Dorcas, who seemed to have a tendency to set things on fire. Remus's Potions skills had not helped, however, and it was only the fact that Peter wasn't bad at the subject that saved their grade).

Sunday night came far too quickly for Remus's liking. Before he knew it, he had snuck out of the dormitory and down to the Whomping Willow. Leaving his clothes in a neat pile outside the Willow for Madam Pomfrey to pick up, Remus headed inside and waited for hell to descend.

His body was on fire. Opening his eyes, Remus found that he was lying in a bed in the hospital wing, bandaged heavily. "Hello?" he croaked, and immediately Madam Pomfrey was at his side.

"How are you feeling?" she asked briskly. "Is any of the pain particularly unbearable?"

"No," he said truthfully. He was used to the feeling by now; he could handle it.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Good," she said, inspecting him clinically. When she was done, she sat in the chair beside his cot and whispered hoarsely, "Is it always this bad?"

"Not usually," he answered, taking a drink of the water she held to his lips. "The wolf doesn't like being in new places, so he was particularly aggressive last night. I heal very quickly, though. Most likely, none of these will scar."

"When did you get the claw marks on your shoulder?"

He grimaced painfully as she offered him a nasty-tasting potion. "My first transformation. It was the hardest I've ever gone through. The teeth marks on my ribs are from when I was bitten. The scar just under my collarbone isn't from a transformation at all, but from a silver knife a friend threw at me when he found out. Most of them don't scar, but the ones that do I tend to remember."

"When were you bitten?" Although she was curious, mostly she was trying to distract him from the pain of having his wounds disinfected. To his credit, Remus didn't so much as flinch.

"I was four," Remus answered. He had never told anyone this before, but he felt he owed it to Madam Pomfrey, who was taking care of him without flinching away even after seeing the aftereffects of a transformation. No one but his mother had ever done that for him. "We used to move around a lot, but eventually my father decided it would be easier to go someplace remote, so we moved to the Welsh countryside."

He smiled a little. "I spent most of my time there reading or flying." He didn't mention that his father had taught him magic in case he wasn't able to attend Hogwarts.

"It wasn't lonely?" Madam Pomfrey asked, her heart aching for the young boy.

"A little," Remus admitted, "but I haven't had a true friend since I was bitten. I don't mind much. I'm being selfish enough just by being here. I'm not going to take any of what I've already got for granted."

"Most adults wouldn't be brave enough to face what you do each month," Madam Pomfrey told him earnestly. "There are many werewolves that give in to the transformation and would rather kill than hurt themselves and risk death this way. You aren't selfish, Remus. You're one of the strongest people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

Remus stared at her with his mouth open, and she shook her head. "You should rest. Call me if you need anything. I've had your homework brought to you." She pointed to the stack of papers on the nightstand beside the cot. "You've only been unconscious for a few hours, but you've already missed Potions and Defense. You're free to go to dinner tonight, if you feel up to it. Okay?"

He didn't answer, and when she looked back at him, he was fast asleep.

* * *

The rest of the month was fairly uneventful. Nothing really happened until the day after his second transformation at Hogwarts. After History of Magic, Remus went to the library to get him homework done. He didn't want to fall behind on his classes. He was in the middle of his Charms work when Lily Evans walked up to him and asked if she could sit down.

"I'm doing my Charms homework, too," she told him with a smile. "Are you all right? I noticed you weren't in class yesterday."

Remus looked up in surprise. "Yeah," he said. "I'm fine. I just – my mother is really sick, and I had to go visit her." He felt horrible lying.

"I'm so sorry," said Lily, looking genuinely sympathetic. They worked in companionable silence for the better part of an hour before Lily suddenly froze. "I was supposed to meet Sev five minutes ago!" she exclaimed, glancing at the clock.

She scrambled to get her papers back in order, and Remus stood up to help her after a moment. "Thanks," she said breathlessly, and he smiled at her as she dashed off. Come to think of it, he wanted to get outside, too – it was warm outside for October, and he was used to going outside no matter what the weather.

Packing up his stuff, he was exiting the library when he heard Lily's voice. Remus frowned – wasn't she supposed to be meeting Snape? He went closer to the voices and caught the end of a conversation.

"– so just stay away from him!" the voice growled harshly. "He's a Slytherin, and he doesn't need mudblood scum like you trying to consort with him!"

Remus scowled furiously. Lily wouldn't know it, but _mudblood _was a horrible derogatory term for Muggleborns. As he rounded the corridor, he saw that two Slytherins, Mulciber and Avery, had Lily cornered and disarmed and were pointing their wands at her.

"In fact, just so it sticks in your mind, I think we'll teach you a lesson," Mulciber drawled. "What do you think, Avery?"

"I think it's an excellent idea," Avery answered.

He was about to cast a spell when Remus called, "_Expelliarmus_!" Avery's wand flew out of his hand, and he turned with a snarl only to find Remus standing there with a furious expression on his face. "Back away, Avery."

Avery gritted his teeth. "This is between us and the mudblood, Lupin."

Remus's voice went dangerously low. "Apologize," he growled.

Mulciber regarded him coolly. "You've got a pureblood last name; you understand we're just –"

"I understand you're a blood purist git who needs to apologize to Lily for letting filth like that leave your lips," Remus cut in coldly. "Don't make me hex you."

Mulciber's expression darkened. "I'd like to see you try. It's two against one, Lupin."

"No, it's not," Lily said bravely, having retrieved her wand. "Let's just forget this ever happened, and we can –"

"Shut up, mudblood," Avery spat at her, and Remus attacked.

"_Furnunculus_," Remus snarled, and almost in the same instant, he shouted, "_Densaugeo!" _Avery grew large boils on his face, and Mulciber's teeth began to grow rapidly. Before anything else could occur, Professor McGonagall swooped down on them.

"Mr. Lupin!" she screeched in horror. "What is going on here?"

Remus glared at the two Slytherins. If there was any sure way to raise his ire, it was with blood prejudice. "They were threatening Lily," he told McGonagall. "They called her a mudblood."

Professor McGonagall's face turned cold. "Miss Evans, is this true?"

Lily nodded mutely. "Detention, Mr. Avery; Mr. Mulciber, tonight with me. 8:00. Don't be late." She then turned to Remus. "Mr. Lupin, you'll join Mr. Potter and Mr. Black in detention tonight, seeing all three of you have yet to learn about using magic that should be above your level in confrontational ways."

She turned and strode off, and Mulciber and Avery followed, shooting the two Gryffindors dark looks over their shoulders as they went. "Are you all right?" Remus asked Lily instantly.

"Yeah," she said shakily. "Thanks for that, Remus. I'm sorry you got detention."

He shrugged. "Don't be sorry. What they said was really bad, Lily. Come on. I'll walk you back to the dormitory. You probably shouldn't meet Snape right now. You can tell him what happened later."

Pursing her lips, Lily followed him.

* * *

James Potter and Sirius Black were very surprised when Remus Lupin joined them in detention that night. They had to clean the trophy room without using magic, much to Filch's obvious pleasure. They were in detention for hexing Snape when he caught them bragging about their Quidditch skills and commented that he was sorry Lily had to deal with such prats in her House.

"What are you here for?" James asked incredulously.

"Hexed two Slytherins," Remus answered shortly.

Sirius stared. "_You _hexed two Slytherins?" he demanded. From what he had seen of Remus so far, the boy was as straight-laced as they came. He was quiet in class, kept his head down, spent most of his time in the library, always did his homework on time, and had never broken any rules.

Remus shrugged and rolled his sleeves up, unbuttoning the top of his shirt as he got to work. "Why?" James wondered curiously.

"They called Lily Evans a mudblood, disarmed her, and threatened her," Remus responded without looking up.

"I thought you were too much of a stickler for the rules to break them," Sirius said tactlessly. "Why did you bother?"

Remus looked irritated. "Because they're both gits who needed to be taught a lesson. I warned them and they had the nerve to insult her again. Are you done?" He was always more irritable around the full moon.

Professor McGonagall chose that moment to walk in with Avery and Mulciber at her heels. "Are you boys working?" she asked suspiciously, and Remus saw with some satisfaction that the boils on Avery's face hadn't gone away, and although Mulciber's teeth had stopped growing, they were still long enough to make him look like he had tusks. Apparently McGonagall had though that the humiliation would be good punishment.

When James, Remus, and Sirius nodded, she gave them a stern look and left with Avery and Mulciber. Sirius rounded on Remus immediately. "You did _that?_" he asked in awe.

"That's bloody brilliant, mate!" James exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. "When we get our wands back, d'you want to go back to the common room and teach us those spells?"

Remus looked up at that, his gaze going between Sirius's impressed face and James's excited one. "Sure," he answered, and that one word cemented their friendship.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: this world and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.**

"Add valerian root to it," Sirius hissed under his breath.

Remus frowned at the potion in front of him. "But that's not in the textbook –"

"It'll work as a counteractive agent," Peter interrupted. "My mum worked in an apothecary for a long time, so I picked some of it up."

Remus stared helplessly at the potion. "I know it'll work as a counteractive agent," he said miserably. "I know all the theory behind it. It's just all this practical stuff . . ."

"The thing about potions is that the directions will only take you so far. A lot of it is determining for yourself what the potion needs – evaluating the variables in the potion; any factors that might differ from each other every time you make the potion. It's mathematical, but there's also a lot of estimation involved," Sirius said impatiently. "Here."

Within a few moments, the potion was the dark, vivid green it was supposed to be. Remus smiled at Sirius gratefully. "Thanks." Sirius was actually far more brilliant than anyone gave him credit for; it wasn't a side he showed to anyone but Remus and James.

"Mr. Black!" Professor Slughorn called. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes," Snape answered vindictively, glaring at them. "Black's been helping Lupin all along, even after you explicitly stated that this was to be an individual assignment. They're cheating!"

Sirius scowled at Snape, who had been assisting Lily with a problem in her potion. "The little git is just mad about our last flying lesson," he muttered. Remus nodded in agreement. Snape wasn't the best on a broom, while Remus was good, Sirius was amazing, and James was like the reincarnation of Merlin.

"Maybe you shouldn't have told him he'd be able to grip the broom better if he washed his greasy hands," Remus muttered back, giving Sirius an accusatory look.

Sirius rolled his eyes but didn't argue. In terms of their rivalry with Snape, both sides were at fault. "Black! Lupin! Is this true?" Slughorn demanded.

Remus put on his "model student" expression, as James and Sirius had dubbed it. "We were just exchanging notes on the Potion, Professor. We were conferring on the hypothetical use of valerian root in this potion because of its counteractive effects with the potion's ingredients, because Werdlin's Third Law states explicitly that –"

"– the measures of a potion's ingredients can be counteracted by the polar ingredient of the base in a measure directly proportional to the base's quantity in the case that an excess of the base causes the reversion of the original intent," Sirius finished.

Peter looked baffled, James looked surprised, as if Werdlin's Third Law had never occurred to him at all, Lily looked impressed, Snape looked furious, and Slughorn was beaming. "Marvelous!" he cried. "Simply _superb_ display of initiative and knowledge of theory! Mr. Snape, I can't imagine why students with an understanding of Potions this deep would need to cheat. You must have been mistaken. Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Remus and Sirius exchanged grins as the latter arched a dangerously insolent eyebrow at Snape. "Hey!" James said suddenly, from where he'd been scrutinizing his potion. "Is it just me, or is this potion the color of Evans's eyes?"

Remus choked back a laugh, and Sirius spun around to regard his best mate. "Are you barmy, James?" He turned back to glare at Snape again. "Snivellus has put something in your potion, hasn't he?"

James looked confused. "No!" he said. "It just struck me, that's all. Anyway, do you two want to toss a Quaffle around after this is over? I'm desperate to get out."

Remus exhaled and watched his breath as it dissipated, a mark of how cold it was outside (and consequently, the dungeons). They had just entered into November, and the grounds were already coated in a thick layer of snow. The students had taken to wearing their cloaks, scarves, and hats to Potions. "Sure!" he said cheerfully.

"Are you crazy?" Peter demanded. "You're going to go out in this weather?"

Remus thought of the time he'd nearly given himself pneumonia sitting out in the snow all day. "Yeah," he and James chorused. "Why not?"

"Because you'll die of hyperthermia?" Peter suggested.

"Hyp_o_thermia," Remus corrected. "Hyperthermia is the exact opposite – too hot, not too cold. The prefix 'hyper' means 'over.'"

Peter frowned at him. "Tell me you don't speak Latin," he tried to tease Remus, bursting into laughter afterward as if he'd just told a hysterical joke.

"It's Greek," Sirius told him flatly, staring at Peter. "And you don't need to speak it to know that."

"Besides," James easily, after a moment of awkward silence, "all purebloods learn Latin. I think Sirius knows French, too; his family has got some ties to France – isn't your motto _toujours pur_?"

"'Always pure.' Don't remind me," Sirius said disgustedly. They passed their potions up before leaving class. As they headed outside, with Peter trailing after them a little uncertainly, Remus addressed Sirius in a low voice.

"Give Peter a break," Remus hissed. "I know he can be a bit annoying, but he hasn't got any friends and he's all right if you give him a chance."

Sirius gave Remus an exasperated look. "He's one of the dullest people I've ever met!" he exclaimed. "He's got absolutely _no _sense of humor. 'Tell me you don't speak Latin.' Honestly!"

"You've got to admit he's not a very interesting person," James pointed out unconcernedly. "I'm sure he'll find other friends. He can talk to the Hufflepuffs. Some of them are so timid they never make jokes because it might offend someone."

"And some of them are wonderful people," Remus countered. Then he frowned. "Probably. I don't actually know any Hufflepuffs. But that fourth year Hufflepuff Chaser, Amos Diggory, is really popular. I heard two girls discussing how good-looking he was yesterday."

"Because being good-looking means a person's got a sense of humor," Sirius said dubiously.

Remus huffed out a breath. "You're missing the point! I was just giving you an example of a likeable Hufflepuff. Give Peter a chance, that's all I'm saying."

Peter, walking slightly behind them, caught that last sentence and felt a rush of gratitude towards Remus. He knew the joke he had tried to tell had fallen very, _very _flat. "It can't hurt," James said easily before turning around. "Hey, Pettigrew! Want to come toss a Quaffle around with us?"

"He can't fly –" Remus started to say, but Peter nodded vigorously, almost tripping in his excitement.

"Yes!" he said immediately. "Yes! Thank you!"

Sirius tried not to grimace at his enthusiasm as they went outside. They borrowed school brooms (which Remus felt a little bad about because they weren't supposed to be using them) and kicked off, Remus holding the Quaffle James had nicked.

On the ground, Peter was struggling to go higher than three feet. After watching his struggle for a few moments, James flew back down to hover beside the boy. "Don't be uncertain," he instructed gently. "Be firm. You don't have to jerk it hard; just tilt back slightly and will it to go up. It's like walking – you don't consciously make an effort to turn, you just . . . do."

Peter's broom stopped shaking, but he still didn't seem to be moving. "Watch me," James ordered. Peter looked on helplessly as without any discernible movement, James shot up smoothly and returned in a graceful dive. "Are you completely calm? Take a few deep breaths . . ."

After almost half an hour of patient instruction, Remus saw Sirius surreptitiously take out his wand and give it a _swish _and _flick_. Immediately, Peter began to rise. "Lean your weight back!" Remus called, and Peter slid back a little, tilting the broom up.

"I'm doing it! I'm doing it!" he cried excitedly. Growing up in a Muggle neighborhood, he'd never gotten the chance to learn to fly, and he'd never had the best balance or athletic ability, anyway.

"Well done, mate," James said, hiding a grimace, and Peter beamed.

"Toss us the Quaffle, then, Remus," Sirius called, and Remus hurled the Quaffle at his head with a laugh. Sirius did a flip in midair to avoid it, by which time James had intercepted it and sent it spinning back at Remus.

Whooping with joy, Remus went into a steep dive and caught the Quaffle, pulling out of the dive abruptly and throwing it gently to Peter, who lunged with both hands to catch it . . . and missed, toppling off the broom. He hit the ground with a muffled thud, landing in the thick layer of snow.

Exchanging alarmed glances, the other three boys went down immediately and surrounded Peter. "Are you all right?" Sirius asked, trying to hold back laughter as Peter lifted his head, revealing a white, snow-caked face.

"Mmf," Peter tried to say, coughing and spitting out snow as it fell into his open mouth. A little tickle down the back of his robes, and he yelped. Sirius exploded into helpless laughter at that, and was joined quickly by Remus and James.

"Hey!" Peter protested mildly, but he didn't really mind. At least they were acknowledging him.

"His face," Sirius gasped out delightedly, nudging Remus.

Remus arched an eyebrow. "Like you'd look any more attractive if you got a face full of snow." He winked at James from behind Sirius's back.

Sirius gave him an affronted look. "Of course I'd look attractive with – mmf!" James had taken a hard snowball and hurled it directly into Sirius's face.

They doubled over with laughter. "Does he look attractive, James?" Remus asked.

"I dunno . . ." James mused. "It's starting to melt off. Maybe we should fix that . . ." Which was how they found themselves in a full-blown snowball fight when Professor McGonagall happened to glance out the window three hours later.

"Boys!" McGonagall screeched just as James tackled Remus, shoving his face into the snow with glee. "What – is – this?!"

"I-I-I belie-ie-ve it's-s-s-s called-d-d a s-s-snowball f-f-ight, Profess-ss-or," Sirius managed to get out through his chattering teeth. He gave McGonagall a charming smile, shivering uncontrollably the whole time.

"You're going to get yourselves killed!" McGonagall shrieked, beside herself. "In! Now!" Once they were safely inside, she gave her wand a complicated flick and their robes began to dry as hot streams of air were issued from her wand.

"To the hospital wing, now!" she snapped, and the four of them followed her down, painfully cold but ridiculously happy.

"What have they done to themselves!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed in horror when she saw the four of them.

"They were having a snowball fight in the middle of that blizzard!" McGonagall sounded absolutely furious. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your idiocy!"

"Drink this," Madam Pomfrey urged, shoving goblets into their hands. McGonagall watched in disapproval as Remus tried to bend his frozen fingers around the goblet.

"Honestly, Mr. Lupin, I thought you had more sense than this," she scolded.

Remus tried to give her a guilty look but couldn't hide his utter glee. With a last disgusted snort, McGonagall turned and marched away, muttering about those scoundrels.

"At least she didn't give us –"

"DETENTION, ALL OF YOU!" came a shrill scream from outside the hospital wing. Remus's shoulders collapsed.

"Never mind," he said glumly.

* * *

"What _happened_ to you?" Marlene demanded, staring at Alice in amazement. Her robes were a dark gold with the words _Go! Go! Gryffindor!_ etched into them in scarlet lettering, and every inch of visible skin had was now covered in scarlet and gold stripes.

Alice scowled at her. "Don't touch the drinking goblets," she said flatly, before marching back to the common room.

Lily frowned after her. "That's Remus's handwriting," she said disappointedly. "Do you reckon we should still go down for breakfast?"

"Absolutely," Hestia answered, grinning. "If the Gryffindors look like this, imagine what the Slytherins look like!"

It was true – whenever there was a prank (which happened quite often), the Slytherins seemed to be targeted the most. Lily had spent more than enough time trying to help Sev undo the damage. Some of the pranks were really horrible – like saying "kick me, I'm a Slytherin" or causing his hair to smell horrible with a note saying, _We'd have fixed your hair's appearance, but you seem to have taken care of that for us. _The first time, before he knew any better, Sev had found a bottle of shampoo on his nightstand claiming to be a gift from Professor Slughorn for the brilliant potion Sev had brewed in Potions that morning, consequently winning Slytherin twenty points.

His hair had fallen off completely, and Sirius Black had told him whatever had happened, it had actually improved his appearance. When Severus had tried to hex him, Sirius had drawled, "Come on, Snivellus. You can't actually miss the greasy slime ball you call hair."

It was difficult for Sev. He didn't have any friends in his own house because they all knew each other beforehand from their parents' pureblood contacts. Only Lily knew his secret – he was actually a half-blood – and only she was his friend.

When they arrived at the Great Hall, Lily found that all the Slytherins except their Quidditch players had been charmed dark scarlet and sported robes that read _I wish I was a Gryffindor_. To a Slytherin, this was the ultimate insult.

Meeting Severus's eyes, Lily found that he was furious and disgusted. "This is brilliant!" Marlene laughed. "What better prank than this our first game of the season?"

Lily wrinkled her nose. She personally couldn't stand flying itself, but had looked up the game before coming to Hogwarts and found it rather interesting. She could talk stats with Marlene or Hestia all day.

"Do they really deserve that?" Lily asked. "Potter and Black are prats. And Lupin should have known better." She hadn't forgotten what he had done for her at the beginning of the year. "Everyone, including the Slytherins, has a right to cheer for his or her own team."

Marlene looked at her doubtfully. "Nah," she said. "Slytherins are awful people; I've told you this a hundred times!"

Lily glared at her friend. "Sev is a –"

"Morning," Dorcas said sleepily, stumbling into a seat beside them and reaching for the pumpkin juice.

"Don't touch that," Marlene and Lily chorused, and Marlene slapped Dorcas's hand away. "Quidditch prank," she explained, and Dorcas nodded vaguely before falling asleep on Marlene's shoulder.

"That girl," Lily sighed, shaking her head. If there was one thing that Dorcas couldn't stand, it was waking up in the morning. To her, no morning was a good morning, the wonderfulness of sleep was surpassed only by that of setting things on fire, and things that hindered her from sleeping were the epitomes of evil.

James, Sirius, Remus chose that moment to come hurtling into the Great Hall at dangerously high speeds. A minute later, another boy in their dormitory, Peter Pettigrew, came straggling in after them.

"Look at the Slytherins," Sirius said in amazement. His expression turned smug as he looked at Remus. "The Gryffindor support idea was a good one, Rem."

Lily's mouth fell open in shock as she turned to look at Marlene, who was still supporting Dorcas's head while trying to eat her breakfast. "_Remus _came up with it?" she hissed under her breath.

At this, Hestia, who had been calmly eating all the while, spoke. "Well, it seems like the sort of thing he would come up with. It's harmless, in good spirit, and funny." She eyed the Slytherin Captain, whose face had turned scarlet in rage to match his housemates. "If you ask me, the Cap'n needs to loosen up. You should _never _play Quidditch with tensed muscles."

"Better for us," Marlene said unconcernedly.

"Look at Snivellus." James's laughter carried, and Lily spun around furiously. Severus had evidently tried to get rid of the charm (with magic clearly not taught to first years) and was now blinking between brilliant scarlet and bright gold. He looked like a Gryffindor Christmas display, and his housemates were slowly inching away from him.

"_Shut up!" _Lily shrieked, rounding on James. "Potter! You irresponsible, daft PRAT! You think it's funny, watching him suffer like that? What did he ever do to you, huh? Well?"

Potter's mouth had fallen open in shock, and he was staring at her with his eyes widened, seemingly incapable of speech. With a disgusted look, Lily threw her hands up in the air and stalked out of the Great Hall.

They had been in school for less than three months, and she had already had it with James Potter and his bloody immature mates.

James stared at the spot he had been. "What just happened?" he asked confusedly.

Sirius shook his head. "Mental, that one."

"She's not," Hestia said defensively. "Snape is her friend, that's all. C'mon, Mar, let's head out onto the pitch." Many students had already left the Great Hall to find good seats in the stands. Half an hour later, they were on the edges of their seats (regrettably behind James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter), listening to Asher Jordan's commentary as he announced the players.

Within the first five minutes of the game alone, Morgana McGonagall, who was the Professor's niece, had already scored twenty points for Gryffindor. The Slytherin Captain, Steve Laughalot, shot a bludger at her so hard that they heard the crack all the way from the stands.

"OI!" shouted Jordan furiously. "YOU RAT-FACED SON OF A PARSELMOUTH, TRYING TO INJURE ONE OF GRYFFINDOR'S BEST – and most attractive – PLAYERS!"

Professor McGonagall, who had got to her feet furiously, pretended not to hear this, although how she couldn't hear a Gryffindor bellowing into a microphone about Quidditch, Lily did not know.

"And the brilliant Gryffindor Chaser McGonagall intercepts a pass from teammate Belicia Cory, back to Cory, back to McGonagall, back to Cory – who shoots – and SCORES! GRYFFINDOR LEADS, THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, PUCEY! I'M GOING TO WIN THIS BET IF IT _KILLS _ME! THAT'S THIRTY – BLOODY – GALLEONS!"

"Jordan," McGonagall said exasperatedly. "Leave your personal life out of this."

"'Course, Professor. Gryffindor Chaser Gwen Jersey, another seventh year we'll miss next year – now in possession of the Quaffle, takes it down the pitch – and OH, she drops the Quaffle avoiding a bludger directed at her by Slytherin Beater Crawford, another seventh year we definitely will NOT miss . . ."

"Jordan!" McGonagall snapped, although the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Sorry, Professor. Quaffle now in possession of Slytherin Chaser Robin Montague, and unfortunately, it seems Slytherin has found a player who actually has some talent. Montague shoots and scores the first shot for Slytherin, now losing by only twenty points."

"Come _on, _McGonagall," Lily urged under her breath, hopping up and down. "It's your last year; use those amazing Chaser skills. You _know _Blake can't catch the snitch for us unless Gryffindor has a good lead to start off the season."

Potter looked at her in surprise. "I didn't know you knew Quidditch," he said. "Aren't you a Muggleborn?"

Lily glared at him. "Just because you're a pureblood –" The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the screaming of the crowd as Cory and McGonagall scored two consecutive shots for Gryffindor, now leading Slytherin by forty points. "– bloody racist git!"

But James was no longer paying any attention to her; he was watching in rapt attention as Gwen Jersey carried the Quaffle down the pitch, skillfully weaving through opposing players and bludgers hit at her.

"JERSEY! JERSEY! JERSEY!" They were all hopping up and down and chanting her name.

"SHE SHOOTS . . ." Jordan's voice was sharp with anticipation . . . "AND SHE SCORES! TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL START TO THE SEASON! Quaffle now in possession of Slytherin's Montague, OUCH! McGonagall hurls herself at him and nearly knocks him off his broom. Gryffindor taken possession of the Quaffle, and OHHH MONTAGUE RETURNS AND SHOVES HER BACK, AND IT SEEMS THEY'VE STARTED A BRAWL IN MIDAIR –"

And both Gryffindor and Slytherin were awarded penalties as McGonagall came away with a bloody nose and bruised jaw and Montague escaped with a bloodied temple, chipped tooth, and bruised ribs.

Cory took the penalty for Gryffindor, leaving the score at sixty-ten . . . until Slytherin made the penalty shot as well. "Slytherin Captain hits a brutal bludger at McGonagall in anger; McGonagall manages to avoid it. Gryffindor Beater seventh year Robert Wood retaliates and hits Laughalot; let's hope the damage is permanent – kidding, Professor!"

Suddenly a lithe figure dived, and Jordan's commentary recommenced excitedly. "Gryffindor Seeker Blake seems to have spotted the golden snitch; she's performing a beautiful dive there . . . Slytherin Seeker sixth year Hawley is right on her tail . . ."

"Chaser Emma Vanity takes advantage of the distraction; shoots – and scores. Ten points to Slytherin; the scores at sixty-thirty to Gryffindor! Blake weaves . . . gaining speed, executes a perfectly timed left turn – AND SHE CATCHES THE SNITCH! FIRST GAME OF THE SEASON ENDS 210-30! GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

"WE WON!" Marlene yelled excitedly at Lily.

"I KNOW!" Lily yelled back, jumping up and down in excitement.

"AHHHHHH!" Hestia screamed joyfully. The Gryffindors ran out onto the pitch to congratulate their teammates.

"OH MERLIN! OH MY HOLY MERLIN!" A third year ran past them in hysterics, nearly trampling Slytherin Seeker Deryn Hawley, who folded her arms and gave the third year a menacing stare. Although on another day, this would have terrified anyone, the third year merely grabbed Hawley by the shoulders, jumped up, and screamed, "DEAR BELOVED MERLIN!" in her face before running off, leaving a disgruntled Hawley in her wake.

Everyone but the Slytherins was happy that day – because Slytherin had had a very impressive winning streak in past years; there was no denying that they were a very strong team, although Gryffindor would never admit it. They were regarded as the two strongest teams among the four Houses.

The Gryffindors were a raucous crowd, screaming and shouting and celebrating in a manner that could only be described as pure, unrestrained, joyous mayhem. The first years weren't allowed to have undiluted firewhiskey, although Lily was sure she saw James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and a fellow first year whose name she thought was Peter Something sneaking a bottle back to their dormitory for later.

She was too caught up in the celebrations to tell them off, though, so she downed mug after mug of the beautiful heaven they called butterbeer. Professor McGonagall came by to check on them sometime into the night, and a second year came rushing into the common room to warn them.

The prefects didn't waste time. Immediately, a somewhat sloshed Gryffindor prefect rounded the first years up, snapping to attention remarkably fast and giving them all a solemn look as if he hadn't been swaying precariously moments before.

"Back to the dormitories!" he scolded, and with shocking speed they had hurtled back to the dorms and were haphazardly sprawled across their beds, fully dressed and completely disheveled, pretending to be asleep.

Lily vaguely heard McGonagall's voice speaking sternly to the prefect, who answered back in a collected voice. "Of course, Professor; we were just keeping watch. These parties get a little rowdy."

McGonagall sniffed. "Is that firewhiskey I smell?"

The prefect smiled at her. "Of course not, Professor," he assured her. "We had some stores of butterbeer from the last Hogsmeade meeting, though, and you know we can't control some of the seventh years sneaking it in. I assure you, we kept it under control as much as possible."

McGonagall, who had been a Gryffindor herself, eyed the prefect critically, knowing full well that Gryffindors did not know the meaning of the words "under control."

"Very well," she said, "at least they've gone to bed." With one last suspicious glance at the prefect, she turned and left the common room.

There was silence for nearly five minutes, and then the prefect yelled, "Bring 'em back in, boys!" And there was a herd of seventh years boys bringing the food and drinks back in – as they were far messier, it was much easier to hide firewhiskey, butterbeer, and other Hogsmeade snacks in the boys' dormitories than it was the girls' – or so the boys obviously thought.

Looking dubiously around the first year girls' dorm, Lily privately thought it couldn't get much worse. There were Quidditch magazines strewn across the floor, heaps of clothes that had been tossed away in favor of better clothing, wrappers from Muggle candies and wizarding candies they had been letting each other sample, and the Fiery Corner of Doom, or just "the Corner." That was where they put everything that Dorcas had set on fire, which was quite a bit.

(She claimed it ran in the family; she had a cousin in Ireland who had just come of age who nearly burnt a tree drown when she got overexcited doing legal magic for the first time. "She's got a Muggle boyfriend," Dorcas had explained in her Welsh lilt, "who doesn't know about our world. I think his name is Finnigan; I had to tell him at least twenty times that my name is pronounced Dhor-kahs. He finally got it when I threatened him with a flaming candle. Didn't really mean to, but if it got him to remember my name, I won't complain.")

Lily caught the bottle of butterbeer Hestia tossed at her with a grin and grabbed Alice's arm, shrieking in alarm as two girl crawled out from under her bed, clothed in Ravenclaw robes. Lily stared aghast at the blue and bronze emblem on the front of their robes.

The two girls didn't appear to notice the suspicious looks the Gryffindors were giving them as they stagger out the door. Instantly, they were pushed out the portrait hole by two Gryffindors. "Stragglers," a sixth year told them apologetically. "The other Houses were supposed to be gone by now."

He raised a bottle at them and waltzed away. "I love Gryffindor," Marlene sighed happily, spinning her around, and they swung back into the common room.

Lily awoke the next morning passed out in front of the common room with her head on James Potter's chest. Horrified, she rolled off him with a groan and gripped her head dazedly.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around roughly, meeting Alice's gaze. "I'll never do this again," she vowed.

That resolution lasted until the next Gryffindor victory.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: this world and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. **

_Sirius stretched, sitting up lazily. _

_"__Merry Christmas, mate!" Frank Longbottom said cheerily, grinning at him, and Sirius froze. He'd forgotten it was Christmas. His shoulders slumped, and he gave Frank a half-hearted smile. _

_"__Merry Christmas, Frank." Sirius ran a hand through his hair, wishing James and Remus hadn't both left for Christmas break. He was pretty sure the only Gryffindors who had stayed behind were him, Frank – who explained that his parents were away on a business trip – and a few other older students Sirius didn't know. _

_"__Want one?" Frank asked, offering him a chocolate frog, and Sirius imagined the way Remus's face would light up at the offer of chocolate. The boy was addicted to the stuff. _

_"__Thanks," Sirius said, trying to keep his cheerlessness out of his voice, a little startled by how much he missed his friends. He had gotten too accustomed to having them around; he should be used to horrible Christmases by now. _

_"__Why so glum?" Frank asked incredulously, noticing. "Look! You've got presents! Open them!" _

_Sirius's eyes widened, and he bounded of the bed, landing on the ground beside a pile of presents. Ripping open a bundle, Sirius found a letter from Remus, chocolate (which he claimed was something no gift was complete without), and a book called _A Thousand Curses, Hexes, and Jinxes For Those Plagued by Rules.

_James had sent him some homemade treacle tart and fudge and a pair of Slytherin robes and tie. Sirius had let out an unmanly, horrified shriek and thrown the offending object across the room before eyeing the note accompanying it suspiciously. _

Don't panic, mate, _the note warned. It was a bit late for that, Sirius thought with a glare. These aren't actual Slytherin robes. They're charmed – sneak it into the Slytherin's laundry and some poor Slytherin will walk around thinking he's wearing Slytherin robes, but it'll appear to be Hufflepuff robes to everyone else. I considered making it Gryffindor, but do we really want the shame? Imagine some Slytherin git posing as a Gryffindor! Either way, the Slytherin will be avoided by other Slytherins and might offend the Hufflepuffs. With any luck it'll be Snivellus! Happy Christmas, Sirius. – James_

_Laughing, Sirius noted with some guilt that Peter had got him a gift – he hadn't sent him anything in return. It was only chocolates, though, and a not wishing him a happy holiday. _

_Regulus had gotten him something as well, and Sirius grinned fondly at the small, horribly wrapped bundle. His grin vanished at what was inside, though – it was a pair of socks. _Slytherin _socks. Sirius dropped the socks, frowning as they hit the ground with thuds. _

_He had to stop making assumptions about Slytherin-themed gifts. Inside the socks were a stack of Muggle candy. Sirius knew what it must have cost Regulus to do that for him, especially since his little brother had never really rebelled with the ideals their parents tried to instill in them. _

_There was a hastily scrawled note with the candy that said, _Sorry about the socks – had to get it past Mum. Told her I was reminding you of your disgrace. Speaking of which, I'm really disappointed in you, big brother. The shame upon our family. Happy Christmas, Sirius. – Regulus

_Sirius reread the note, his lips quirking in amused surprise. When had Regulus gotten sarcastic? He had always been very serious; very dependent on Sirius; very . . . young. _

_"__Good presents?" Frank asked him, watching from his bed. Sirius opened his mouth to answer . . . ._

A ringing alarm went through the air, as was customary on Fridays, when they all had difficulty waking up. It was designed to intensify when someone tried to switch it off, which happened at least thrice before one of the boys awoke.

It had reached the level 'Dragon Fighting' when Sirius and James snapped awake within seconds of each other. Sirius scowled at nothing in particular, wishing he could go back to his Christmas dream. James, who was just a little faster in waking up, silenced the alarm blearily and yawned, stretching.

Then he froze, remembering the day. "You do it," James and Sirius chorused, glaring at each other defiantly.

"I woke up first!" James argued.

"Exactly, you've had more time to prepare," Sirius argued back.

"That isn't fair! You woke up seconds after me! Besides, I had to do it last Friday, remember? It's only fair that you do it this time."

"Who cares anything about fair? We agreed it would be whoever woke up first."

"We did not! We said it was whoever woke up last!"

"No!"

"Yeah!"

"No!"

"Please," James begged, widening his eyes and attempting the puppy-dog look Sirius was suspiciously good at. "Don't make me. You can't make me!"

Sirius gave him an unapologetic look. "Better you than me, mate. It was nice knowing you. Can I have the invisibility cloak after you're gone?"

James glared at him. "Definitely not," he snorted, before assuming a mournful, self-sacrificial air and marching towards Remus's bed, wand in hand. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself mentally and shouted, "REMUS JOHN LUPIN! WE JUST GOT OUR EXAMS BACK, AND YOU HAVE FAILED EVERYTHING! AS PUNISHMENT, YOU WILL BE FORCED YOU WATCH YOUR BEST MATES, THE HIGHLY INTELLIGENT JAMES POTTER AND SIRIUS BLACK, EAT EVERYTHING FROM YOUR CANDY STASH!"

He added several mild stinging jinxes for good measure, then sprang back as Remus leapt up, snarling, his wand out. James backed away, raising his arms in surrender. "How _dare _you," Remus snarled, looking furious.

James swallowed. "Well, you know how hard it is to wake you up today, mate . . . it's –"

"Friday!" Remus interrupted with a glower. Then his expression turned horrified. "Merlin, no . . ." He collapsed back into bed, pulling the pillow over his head and falling asleep again.

James steeled his nerves and took a running start, jumping up onto Remus's bed. "Mate!" he insisted. "We've got to go, double Potions today!"

"He's not going to wake up if you say _that_," hissed Sirius. "Really, James, you _know _that's the reason he hates Fridays."

James snatched his pillow away, but Remus refused to budge. "WAKE UP!" James yelled in his ear, shaking the boy roughly. "If you don't wake up you'll miss breakfast!"

He pulled Remus up, refusing to let his lie back down. Remus opened an eye at this, scowling irritably. Breakfast, or food in general, seemed to be more important to him than it was even to Sirius, who inhaled food the way athletes inhaled oxygen. (The food didn't seem to be going anywhere – Remus's metabolism was almost inhuman. If he ate like this now, how would he eat in his teenage years?)

For this reason, Remus was usually the first one up, followed by Sirius, and finally James. On Fridays, however, no amount of coaxing or the thought of breakfast or even the thought of being late to class and getting detention could get him out of bed.

James eyed Remus distrustfully as he let his head fall against James's shoulder and went back to sleep. "Dear Merlin," he breathed exasperatedly. "Remus!" James dragged him out of bed and to his feet.

"No!" Remus protested, trying to scramble back to the bed. He was shockingly strong. Those skinny arms were extremely deceptive, James thought, meeting Sirius's amused gaze. The wanker was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, watching his friends struggle.

"It's unfair!" Remus cried. "It's cruel! It's unusual! It's against the Constitution!"

"We haven't got a Constitution, Remus," James said in annoyance. "We're wizards! And this isn't the United States; I don't _care _how cruel and unusual this is!"

"Noooooo," Remus wailed, fighting harder.

James closed his eyes. "I was hoping we wouldn't have to go through this today," he sighed. He sat on Remus.

"Mmf!" Remus said in a muffled voice.

James folded his arms. "I'm not getting up until you're fully awake," he said firmly. Remus let out snore in answer. "Tell me he didn't just fall asleep," James pleaded to Sirius, looking at his friend in amazement. "He has, hasn't he? Oh, Merlin's great aunt Gretel!"

Sirius snorted. "Might want to hurry it up, James. We've only got about ten minutes until class starts. I reckon we won't get to eat breakfast now."

James moaned, and Remus huffed out a breath, trying to get comfortable with an eleven-year-old perched on top of him. James finally stood, grabbing Remus by the arm and pulling him up.

"Merlin!" he gasped, staring at Remus's arm. "Rem, where'd you get those scars?"

Remus's eyes shot open, and he looked at James in alarm. "What?" He glanced at the calendar – it was the 24th – full moon was in five days, on the 29th, which was Wednesday. He groaned inwardly; he probably looked paler than usual.

"There were marks on your arm – they looked like they'd been done with something sharp, like a knife."

Remus stiffened and avoided their gazes. "Those are just old scars from when I was little," he said vaguely, tugging his sleeves down.

"Remus," Sirius said sharply, "you didn't have any scars on your arms when we used your sleeves as a blindfold the week before you left to visit your mother."

_They've noticed, _Remus thought, panicking. He told them he was visiting his sick mother at home; that she had to go to painful appointments every month, so he went there to cheer her up and keep her company before the procedures happened.

"Look, it's nothing to worry about, all right?" he said. "They're not new; you must have just not noticed them before."

"They were pretty big," James said doubtfully, and Remus closed his eyes. The worst scars always took a while to fade, although they did vanish eventually.

"Don't worry about it," he repeated. "I burnt myself in Potions last week; that's probably why they're highlighted right now."

James bought it, not seeing any reason for Remus to lie. "All right," he said easily. "We've got to hurry, mate, or we're gonna lose more points for Gryffindor for tardiness."

As customary, Remus put his clothes on behind his curtains to hide the scars on his body. James and Sirius would just think he was shy, like always. When he reemerged, however, Sirius was regarding his shrewdly, his grey eyes sharp and calculating.

Remus looked away.

* * *

Potions was as awful as expected. Remus had managed to screw up their potion even worse than usual, still preoccupied after the morning's events. Peter didn't mind, but he had given up on salvaging the potion. Even Sirius took one look at it and shrugged apologetically at Remus.

Sighing, Remus tugged his sleeves down absentmindedly again – and accidentally dropped his quill into his cauldron. Immediately, sparks flew, and flames erupted in the cauldron as the potion lit up. The quill was a burnt stub when Remus withdrew its remains.

Glancing surreptitiously at the professor, Remus dropped a bit of parchment into the potion. Immediately, it sparked up, creating a tiny fireworks display. Remus's mouth dropped open in shock. "Guys!" he whispered excitedly. "Look at this!" He dropped a corner of parchment in again.

James and Sirius wore identical looks of astonishment and glee. "Blimey!" said James. "It's explosive!"

"See if you can sneak some out," Sirius suggested under his breath, and Remus grinned.

"Give me half of yours," said Remus, only feeling a little guilty. They had all taken homework off each other before; James was a firm believer in the idea that brilliant people shouldn't waste their time or thought on things that did not require the level of intellect they had been graced with lest they miss the opportunity to forge something truly stunning with their minds.

Remus took Peter's empty cauldron (they were using his; Remus insisted that if anyone's cauldron were to be put at risk by his horrid potions skills, it should be his) and whispered under his breath, "_Aguamenti._" (An incident with Dorcas Meadowes had taught all the first years in their year to learn the sixth year level water spell).

A clear jet of water shot out of the tip of his wand; he directed it into the cauldron. After a quick discoloration spell, the water matched the hue of Sirius's potion. "Now," he hissed to James, who faked absentmindedness and swept his arm in a large gesture, knocking over his and Sirius's cauldron.

Remus lunged to catch it, knocking over his and Peter's cauldron in the process. His eyes met Sirius's for a moment as they both whispered hurried spells under their breath to catch the cauldrons containing the potions.

Peter, who seemed to have understood what they were doing, tipped the colored water onto the ground as Sirius surreptitiously poured half his potion into Peter's cauldron. "Thanks," Sirius said roughly, and Peter beamed.

"We've still got half our potions left, Professor," Remus said, offering Peter's cauldron. The Professor inspected their cauldrons before nodding.

"It happens," he said kindly, smiling at James. He waved his wand, and the mess on the floor vanished. "Dump out your cauldrons; full credit. We won't be collecting it today."

Remus allowed himself a slight smile as Slughorn ambled away. Something in him felt thrilled at what he'd just done, although he'd gotten used to pranks and harmless rule-bending. He exchanged glanced with Sirius and James before turning to find Lily Evans staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"I saw what you did," she said disapprovingly. "I thought you were smart, Remus. If you need help, ask for it. Don't cheat."

So she hadn't seen _everything. _Remus felt even guiltier at her words. He avoided her gaze he left the classroom with James and Sirius, Peter trailing slightly behind. He had taken to following them everywhere, and they tolerated it. Sirius didn't seem to care about Peter at all, but Remus could tell James liked the attention and would often give Peter a wink or show off for him with the awareness that he had an audience.

"Here, you hold it," Remus said to Peter. "No one'll ever suspect you."

Peter took the proffered cauldron with a huge smile. They were nearly out of the dungeons when Peter tripped on something nearly dropped the cauldron, casting a quick levitation charm to keep it upright. In his haste, he messed up and some of the contents of the potion splattered against the walls and low ceiling.

It sizzled for a few moments before exploding, momentarily enveloping them all in a cloud of black. They stood there coughing madly for a few seconds before they heard footsteps behind them, exchanged glances, and began to run.

Several minutes later something hurtled into Peter and tackled him to the ground. Luckily, Remus caught the cauldron before anything happened to the rest of the potion. He was beginning to regret offering it to Peter to hold.

"Wait," gasped a voice, still collapsed on top of Peter and gasping. Peter looked uncomfortably squashed by the bigger person. Sirius narrowed his eyes at the familiar faint Welsh lilt and reached down to roughly grasp Dorcas's robes and haul her to her feet.

Dorcas stared at their soot-covered faces in awe for a moment before saying excitedly, "What _was _that?"

"Why do you want to know?" Remus asked, frowning. Dorcas waited for her question to be answered, pretending she hadn't heard Remus.

"Peter was practicing a spell," Sirius answered. "He messed up, and it created an explosion."

"Then why were you running?" Dorcas asked archly, raising an eyebrow. Before any of them could answer, she continued, "Look, I'll pay you well for whatever did that. Was it a modified product? Potion gone wrong? Spell of your own invention? Ten galleons."

James spoke at that, knowing Remus was rather poorer than he maintained – his family may have had a large quantity of money once, but their wealth was rapidly deteriorating under the financial strain of the treatments his mother needed.

"All right," he said, "it was Remus. He came up with a highly explosive potion – it reacts to everything! Just toss it at something and –"

"_BOOM_?" Dorcas asked excitedly.

"Boom," James confirmed. "So give your ten galleons to him, and he'll give you the masterpiece."

Remus opened his mouth to object. "That isn't fair!" he protested. "It belongs to all of us! We'll split the money – and besides, it's Peter's potion, too."

"We both know you're the reason it turned out like this, Rem," Sirius objecting, "so I'm sure Peter will agree that it's only fair that you get the money."

Peter frowned at that, but Sirius turned to him expectantly and he swallowed. "Er – yeah. Of course. I don't want it. It's yours, you made it."

Remus opened his mouth to argue again, but James took the potion and gave it to Dorcas, who reached into her pocket and retrieved ten galleons, pressing them into Remus's hand. "Thanks!" she said brightly before running off.

Remus turned to James, who didn't let him speak. "Come on," he said easily. "My birthday is in three days and I want to plan a brilliant prank for it."

At that, Remus looked at James thoughtfully and pocketed the gold.

Coincidentally, James's birthday present from Remus cost exactly ten galleons.


	6. Chapter 6

**It's finals week next week, and I'm getting less time to write every day. I had to write this chapter in huge chunks with a couple days' break in between, so I can't tell how it flows or if it even makes sense. Basically, the purpose of this chapter is to describe their summers and the transition from first year to second year. **

**Thanks to those of you who have reviewed :) Not sure how this chapter turned out, so tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: this world and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.**

"You'll write to me, won't you?" James asked with a grin, looking at Remus and Sirius. He smiled at Peter. "You, too, Pete."

"Of course," said Remus, and Peter let a huge grin spread across his face.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. "I – I dunno if I can," he said quietly. "You know my family isn't exactly happy that I got sorted into Gryffindor, and they're not going to like me consorting with other Gryffindors."

"I don't understand what they expect of you," James muttered, looking annoyed on his friend's behalf. "Do they want you to stop speaking to the rest of our House and ghost through Hogwarts? My mum was a Black, and she _married _a Potter–and it's common knowledge that we're a Gryffindor family."

"Yeah," Sirius muttered, looking away, and James bit his lip, uncharacteristically considerately dropping the matter. James was horrid at catching emotional nuances, but as custom amongst them, he made an exception for the three of them.

"I'm sorry about your family, mate," James said. "I'm sure they'll come around. It's been a year. They can't hate you forever, can they?" He hesitated. "Can I still write you, or will that aggravate things with your Mum and Dad?"

"You probably shouldn't write," Sirius answered, and James detected a hint a misery in his voice.

Changing the subject for Sirius, he turned to Remus and Peter. "You two excited, then? No homework; all the free time in the world–I can't wait to get time off to practice for the Quidditch team next year."

"Yeah!" Peter answered. "My cousins are coming over, but they're Muggles, so it'll be really interesting for me to be around them. They're Americans, from Michigan. Apparently it's vacation for them, too. I haven't seen them in years!"

"Cool," said Sirius, looking genuinely interested. He leaned forward. "Fascinating people, Muggles. Vacation from what, exactly? I mean, I know Muggle have jobs and all that, although I can't imagine what they do."

Remus gave him an incredulous look. "Really? They've got school, obviously, and loads of the stuff we do has to be done without magic."

"Yeah, but what do they learn in school?" Sirius asked, and James looked at Remus and Peter curiously.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Purebloods," he said to Remus, shaking his head. He looked oddly animated, as if he'd forgotten where he was. "My dad was always telling my little sister and me stories about his childhood, and I've picked up quite a bit over the years. Muggles go to school to learn things like mathematics, the sciences, history, languages, English, the fine arts, and subjects like that. They get homework and everything just like we do, but they don't usually move away until they've finished with their twelfth year of schooling, after which they go to university to study further before getting a job."

Sirius stared at him blankly. "Seems bloody pointless to me," he said. "Wasting so much of their lives like that. With us, we start at eleven, graduate at seventeen, and we're set for life! Maybe Muggle school is why Muggles have such short lives." He shook his head sadly as Remus and Peter exchanged glances and snickered. "I'll be relaxing and drinking a butterbeer at 150 years old, and Muggles born after me will be dead. Those poor souls. I would hate to die young like that."

Remus grinned a little. "They've got a lot to learn. Sirius, can you tell me what pyloric stenosis is?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Ah . . . no. And I can get by in life perfectly well without ever needing that delightful piece of informat–"

"It's when the pyloric sphincter, between the pylorus and the duodenum, stiffens up and therefore doesn't allow chyme to pass through from the stomach to the small intestine. It usually occurs in male babies of around six months. Now tell me, could a Muggle pediatrician –"

"Life-changing information," Sirius drawled. "Not that it matters, but what's chyme?"

"Acidified bolus – a result of the hydrochloric acid in the stomach," Remus answered smugly.

"And what is bolus? It sounds like fungi. Or meat."

"Masticated food," Peter interrupted, and they all turned to stare at him. Peter shrugged. "There's this thing called Science Olympiad that my dad used to do when he went to American middle school, and one of his events was Anatomy. He somehow still remembers that and manages to talk about so often that I'm an expert."

"What's mastication?" James wondered, looking at Peter strangely.

"The process of chewing up food. It's the first step of digestion, occurring in the mouth – obviously," Peter answered, and Remus gave him an impressed look.

"Well," Sirius sighed, "I still don't understand why young Muggle innocents must suffer through Muggle school."

"A question I asked myself for years before getting my Hogwarts letter," a new voice said, and Remus looked up to find Lily in the compartment door. "Hello, Remus. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Bye," he said, before realizing that sounded rude. "I mean – have a lovely summer, Lily."

She smiled at him. "Thanks. I'm really looking forward to it." And with that, she left, leaving Remus slightly apprehensive at the thought of summer.

He sighed miserably. He missed his family, of course, and he loved Wales, but the wolf didn't like waking up in new places, and the fact that he was in a different place than he was the previous full moon would make it a painful transformation._ Yeah, _he thought glumly. _Looking forward to it. _

Sirius frowned at him. "Why wouldn't you be? Don't you want to see your family again?"

Remus's eyes widened. He hadn't realized he had spoken aloud. "Of course," he lied quickly. He needed to be more careful if he didn't want his friends to find out his secret. He had been through the rejection process enough times as a child. He didn't need it now.

At his friends' disbelieving looks, he amended, "It's just, my mother's sick, and . . ." he trailed off.

James and Peter looked satisfied, but Sirius's intelligent grey gaze stayed locked on Remus's. "Ah," he said mildly. "The mysterious bruises and scars you receive whenever you're there. Doesn't seem like a particularly happy experience."

Remus swallowed, trying to hide his horror. Sirius suspected! "I–I –" His face had paled rapidly and he looked almost sick.

"Of course it's not a happy experience," James snapped suddenly, glaring at Sirius. "His mother's dying."

Remus immediately felt impossibly guilty for lying and impossibly grateful to James for sensing his discomfort and defending him. Sirius narrowed his eyes at Remus but subsided, and they spent the rest of the train ride pretending the conversation had never happened.

* * *

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Potter; Mr. Potter," Remus said with a smile.

James grinned at him. "It's obvious why Sirius isn't introducing us to his family, but what's your excuse?"

Remus forced himself not to panic. He couldn't let them see his mother walking around perfectly healthy – he was a better liar than that. "I'd have to look for them, and I don't want to waste your time," he lied.

James shrugged. "Well, I'll see you next summer, mate." With that, he turned and left with his parents. As Remus turned to go – he knew exactly where his parents were – Sirius caught his arm.

"Why don't you want us to meet your family, Remus?" he demanded in a low voice, repeating James's question.

Remus shook his friend's hand off. "I told you," he answered evenly, "I don't know where they are."

"Right." Sirius narrowed his eyes at Remus's hand – he had been unconsciously tracing the outline of an unhealed scar on his arm. Remus immediately dropped his hand, cursing internally. He was usually more careful than that.

"I'll see you," Remus said quickly, backing away and avoiding Sirius's gaze. Then he paused and looked directly into his stormy grey eyes. "Good luck, mate."

Sirius held his gaze for a long moment, unusually serious. "You too."

* * *

Remus couldn't breathe. "Mum," he choked out, his face squashed against her shoulder, "you're smothering me."

She immediately let go and stepped back, appraising him. "You'd think you'd be a little bit happier to see us," she said with a frown, and Remus grinned at her.

"Please," he drawled, waving a hand airily. "You know I'm only here for the chocolate." He allowed his father to ruffle his hair before tugging his trunk forward. "Shall we?"

He turned back to look at his parents, who were exchanging a surprised glance. "What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," said his father, smiling at him. As they got into their old, beat up car, Mr. Lupin's expression became more serious. "How were they really?" he asked his son carefully.

Remus's expression tightened slightly. "They weren't exactly a picnic, but that will never change. Madam Pomfrey is really kind to me – she doesn't hate me or look down on me. She treats me like I'm normal. I'm just grateful that I've been given an opportunity at the school. Hogwarts – it's _amazing._"

"Isn't it?" his father asked wryly. "So how did your exams go?"

"Brilliantly," Remus said, waving a hand, "but that was expected. I've never failed anything." _Except Potions. _

His parents exchanged another surprised glance briefly. "Except Potions," Mrs. Lupin reminded him with a teasing smile. He had complained about the subject to them many times in letters, but he hadn't told them about his many detentions, adventures, and failed potions.

"Except Potions," he agreed darkly.

"Has anyone come close to figuring out your secret, Remus?" Mr. Lupin asked suddenly, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard they turned white.

"No," Remus muttered, thinking of Sirius. "I don't think so."

"Not even your friends?" Mr. Lupin looked worried all of a sudden. "People are nice, aren't they? I know the Slytherins can be a nasty, blood-prejudiced lot, even if they don't know your secret."

"Well, the Slytherins don't like anyone," Remus said reasonably, thinking of how he met James and Sirius in the first place – he was in detention for hexing Avery and Mulciber. "And nobody likes the Slytherins. _Especially _Gryffindors."

"They sound like a wonderful bunch," Hope Lupin said dryly. "You've got friends, right, Remus? I know you mentioned some boys from your dorm, but . . ."

Remus hadn't wanted to let on that the four of them were never seen without one another because his parents would feel even worse when they found out who he was and turned on him.

"Don't worry about it, Mum," he said. "I've got friends and they're great, and not one of them suspects a thing. I've told them that . . ." He hesitated, looking down guiltily. "I told them that you're sick and have to undergo treatment every month, and I have to visit you."

The look on his mother's face broke his heart. She stared at him as if he was the ghost of someone who had died. "Mum . . ." he said, but she cleared her throat and looked away.

"Don't, love," she said softly, and they spent the rest of the ride in silence.

* * *

Blacks didn't cry; everyone knew that. _Maybe I'm not a Black_, Sirius thought, roughly wiping his tears away. He was sitting in his room on the window-seat with his back against the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest.

His stomach growled loudly, and Sirius tightened his arms around his knees, resting his chin on them. He hadn't eaten since he'd gotten home – he had felt the scathing looks of his family on his back as he'd walked to his room, and they hadn't let him out since.

"You looked happy," a voice said softly, and Sirius jumped, hastily wiping away his tears. Regulus stepped out of the shadows, and Sirius looked at him in surprise; he hadn't heard his brother enter the room – and besides, Regulus _never _defied his parents.

"What?" he asked in surprise.

"At the station," Regulus clarified. "Getting off that train with your friends . . . you looked really happy. I've never seen you smile like that."

Sirius stared at him. "I smile at you," he objected quietly.

"Not like that," Regulus said flatly. "Here." He offered Sirius some water and a croissant. "It's all I could get, really, because Mum told Kreacher not to give you food, but I managed to convince him." A devious note entered his voice. "She said nothing about giving you a drink. Kreacher should be able to get you water whenever you want it."

Sirius took the croissant and bit into it, feeling his stomach growl louder as a buttery taste exploded in his mouth. "You convinced _Kreacher _to do something halfway decent?" he asked in disgust.

"Don't," Regulus said sharply, and Sirius looked up at him in shock. Regulus had gotten both skinnier and taller. His hair was as rumpled as ever, but he was standing taller, and his eyes had a guarded look in them. When Sirius had left Hogwarts, Regulus had acted his age – he had always had Sirius to protect him; he had had no need to build up walls quite as impregnable as Sirius had. Regulus had, of course, known exactly how to act around his family, and had always been very careful to do so, but he had still been . . . _innocent. _

Now Regulus acted years older than his age. There was a hint of steel in his voice; a fierce defiance in his eyes that did Sirius proud. "Don't what?" he asked in bafflement.

"Kreacher is the only company I've had in the past year," Regulus said firmly. He clenched his jaw. "Mother would kill me if she found me in here. I've got to go. I'll bring you lunch tomorrow."

He turned to leave. When he was at the door, Sirius called after him, "You've changed."

Regulus turned back for a moment. "So have you," he said without inflection.

And then he was gone.

* * *

"Our winter was actually pretty nice," Jenny was telling Peter in her Northern American accent. He personally thought her speech was ridiculous. She spoke entirely too fast, pronounced her "r"s like a bloody pirate, and was always cutting her words off.

His cousins were the weirdest people he'd ever met. For example, when he asked them where exactly they were from, _they pointed to their hand._ The conversation had gone something like this:

_"__Which city do you live in?" _

_Andrew lifted up his hand and pointed to a spot near the thumb, not bothering to tear his eyes away from the pastries on the table. "You live in your hand?" Peter asked stupidly. _

_Andrew looked up at that. "Of course not," he scoffed, and Peter wondered how he could manage to drawl out the word "not" and yet spit it out so fast at the same time. "I'm from metro Detroit." _

_"__Duh-troy?" Peter asked confusedly. _

_Jenny smiled at him kindly. "Detroit," she corrected, although it sounded the same to Peter. He seemed to recall the city's name ending with the letter "t," though . . . _

_"__Petie," Jessica called from behind him, and Peter felt a flash of irritation. He hated nicknames. _

_"__It's not 'Pee-dee,'" he snapped. "It's _Peter._"_

_Jessica frowned. "That's what I said. Just because I haven't seen in you in forever doesn't mean I've forgotten your name." _

_Peter looked at her exasperatedly. "What did you want?" _

_"__Coffee," she said with a yawn. "I think I'm still jet lagged. It's only been like a few hours." _

_"__We haven't got any coffee," said Peter. "My family doesn't drink coffee." They drank butterbeer, not that he could tell them that. _

_Jessica looked horrified. "How do you _live?" _she demanded, shaking her head. With a toss of her blonde curls, she spun on her heel and marched out of the kitchen, muttering about how she refused to consort with those alien creatures who had not succumbed to the addictive allure of coffee. _

Peter tuned back into the present. "We only had a low of like, negative eight degrees," Jenny was telling him excitedly. "Which is great, really – oh, that's Fahrenheit. I think that's . . . what, negative twenty-two degrees Celsius?"

Peter gaped at her. "Would you like me to tell it to you in Kalvin?"

"Uh . . ." he answered, and she grinned at him. "Right, you probably didn't learn any of that yet. How old are you, twelve?"

Peter decided not to ask. "I'm really glad we're here," Jenny continued without waiting for him to answer. "The U.K. is so cool. I love your accent, but it's a little hard to understand sometimes. And also, your summer weather is perfect so far. Back home, it hit the eighties, and I was dying in the heat. That's Fahrenheit again, by the way. So where do you go to school?"

Peter blinked. Did this girl ever stop talking? "_Our _accents are hard to understand?" he repeated. "_Our _accents?" And why was she telling him about the temperature? He didn't care!

Jenny ignored this, so Peter stood up abruptly. "I'm going to go write a letter to my friends." And he escaped to his room, locking the door and pulling out a piece of parchment.

_Dear Sirius (if you're allowed a letter), Remus, and James, _

_How have your summers been so far? My cousins arrived earlier today, and they're the strangest people I've ever met. I can't tell if it's because they're Muggles or Americans. Jessica's the oldest; she's nineteen. She's addicted to coffee, and she came from her college in Georgia, so she has what they call a southern accent now. It's very slow and harder to understand than my other cousins' accents, but it sounds nice. _

_Jenny is thirteen, and she speaks with a Michigan accent. Apparently she used to think she didn't have an accent until Jessica told her they did. I think they're all barmy. Jenny hasn't stopped smiling since she got here, and I have no idea how someone can be so consistently happy. She hasn't stopped talking, either, and this is a bit of a problem because she talks faster than anyone I've ever met. Her accent is actually really cool-sounding, but I can't understand it. So basically she's talking to me and I don't understand a word of what she's saying. _

_Actually, I think that's because she keeps expecting me to know Muggle things. Andrew's fourteen, and from what I've gathered, his thoughts mostly revolve around food. It's ridiculous. He was hungry, so I tried to offer him a treacle tart and he looked at it like it was an old dusty curtain. He kept asking for cookies and fudge and cake. _

_My little sister, Violet, adores them. She's only four, but she thinks they're the coolest people in the world. She won't stop going on about some Muggle singer. I saw a picture of him and I think he's ghastly, but I mentioned this and they stared at me like I'd murdered a puppy. _

_I don't like these people. If they don't stop speaking about things I don't understand I'll Avada myself. (Sirius, don't say a _word _about how I should be used to that by now). By the way, do any of you know who Andrew Jackson is? Apparently Andrew was named after him, but I have no idea who the bloke is. _

_ In desperation, Peter_

* * *

Remus tried to hold his breath for as long as he could before inhaling harshly again – every breath he took made him feel like a thousand shards of glass were carving his insides out. He was immobilized, lying on a cot inside with the sun shining down on him.

There was a steady breeze coming from the window, and he wished he could go outside. But he couldn't move. Remus held his breath for too long and gasped in air before coughing madly, a scream tearing at his damaged vocal cords as he tried to quell the coughing fit that was racking his broken body.

"Mum!" he rasped, trying not to wince at the harshness of his voice. There was a quality to his typically musical voice that reminded him of honey running over splinters of ice. Hope Lupin came running into the room.

She crossed it within seconds, deftly pouring him a glass of water while smoothing his hair down gently. "Here," she said softly. "I've got something for you." She grinned at Remus, knowing he hated mournful looks at his bedside.

Remus wished he could sit up. He felt like an invalid. "What are they?" he asked as she laid a few pieces of parchment on his nightstand.

"Letters," she answered cheerfully. "They're from your friends."

Through his fatigue, Hope Lupin could see the way her son's eyes lit up faintly. "Remus," she began, "the other day, when you told me the excuse you had given to your friends . . . I'm not mad. You did what you had to, and only to protect your secret. I just wish it didn't have to be this way. All right?"

She looked down at him, but he was asleep again. She caught her breath as the breeze ruffled his hair again and the clouds shifted, allowing sunlight to spill across his hair in golden shafts. Remus had always had angelic features, especially in his sleep – she had always known that he looked like her, and his fine, beautiful features were an artist's dream. He looked almost unreal with the sun playing across him like that. She couldn't resist . . . she hadn't done it in a while, but her fingers were practically _twitching_ . . .

Hope stood and retrieved her old sketchbooks and pencils from a shelf above the cot. Sitting down again, she stared at her son. Her fingers gripped the pencil familiarly, and almost without her volition, her hand began to move across the page.

She began to hum under her breath as she sketched, strands of dark hair falling into her eyes. In that moment, Hope Lupin looked younger than she had in years. She didn't know how much time had passed, but she was eventually joined by her husband.

"Has he woken up?" asked Lyall Lupin quietly.

She didn't answer, and Lyall grinned. He knew her well enough to know that when she was drawing, the world could burn down in an inferno of blazing flames and she wouldn't notice. He hadn't seen her like this in years.

Remus drew in a sharp breath, and Lyall's heart dropped as he watched blood seep through some of the bandages on his arm. Lyall changed them gently, redressing the wound. The Healer who had come in had assured them that although it looked particularly bad this time, Remus would be fine.

"I'm so sorry," Lyall said softly, looking at Remus with a heart-wrenching expression.

Hope looked up at that, staring at him for a few moments. Her husband blamed himself, she knew, and his guilt and sorrow at the thought that _he _was to blame for every wound Remus suffered were overwhelming.

She leaned over and kissed him. "He knows," she told him. "And he doesn't blame you."

Mr. Lupin stood, gazing at his son. "I wish he did. He should. He got that quality from you, you know – the ability to look past prejudice and see the goodness in someone no matter what; the ability to put things into perspective almost ridiculously well."

"He got the first quality from me," Hope corrected. "He got the second quality from experience."

Mr. Lupin looked at her sadly before leaving the room. Hope watched him leave before setting the finished drawing down on the nightstand beside Remus's friends' letters. She leaned down, kissed her son's forehead, and left the room.

When Remus woke up, the drawing was the first thing he saw.

* * *

James executed a particularly spectacular dive before landing back on the ground and collapsing in the grass. His parents were gone again, away on separate Auror missions, but they had promised to be back to take him to the station for the start of school.

They had been gone for the majority of summer, and James had had nothing to do but play Quidditch by himself. He had never missed his friends more than he did in the first weeks back. He had always been very lonely growing up, but at Hogwarts, he had found great friends. They did everything together; they never abandoned him; he was never alone.

All he wanted was to go back to them. He had become a stunning Quidditch player, at least, spending all of his time either flying or reading books from the family libraries. He had learned quite a bit from the books, too.

True to his word, James had not written to Sirius all summer and was dying to know how his friend was doing. Sirius hadn't let on exactly how worried he was, but the usual magnetic energy that surrounded him had been quelled on the train ride home, and that worried James.

Remus hadn't seemed too keen on thinking about the summer holidays, either, although he had written several letters to James. One of the letters had had a tiny dark brown stain in the corner that worried James, but he figured it was just from a mouse the owl had eaten.

Another reply had come almost a week after he had sent it, which struck James as odd because Remus usually replied within a day. He hadn't seemed particularly busy, judging from his letters, and James wondered what had caused the delay.

Peter seemed to be having the best summer of them all. James had been surprised to find that Peter was a lot more interesting in writing. He seemed to have a lot more to say, and bits of personality seeped through his letters. He wasn't the company Remus or Sirius presented, but he was definitely not as dull as Sirius seemed to believe.

James wasn't sure why Peter sounded fairly intelligent in his letters but appeared to be utterly stupid in person. Perhaps it was because he had time to collect his thoughts before writing them down, so he didn't spew out a bunch of idiotic comments.

As James counted down the days, he realized how valuable his friends were to him; how precious Hogwarts itself was, even with all the homework, the necessity of dealing with unsavory people (Slytherin House, for example), and the harrowing exam times when the older students got irritable and snappy and turned into hulking monsters that ate first years for breakfast.

When his father returned on August 31st and his mother came back the next morning, James was practically bouncing with excitement. In hours, he would be sitting on the Hogwarts Express with his friends, heading home again.

And so would begin their second year.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry I didn't update last weekend. I enjoyed about three days of summer and then both Driver's Ed and summer school (not because I failed a class or anything, but because I'm trying to get History out of the way so I can double up on science next year) started, and I leave home at 7:00 a.m., come back at 7:30 p.m., and have just enough time to practice my flute and eat and do my History homework (which isn't a picnic) before going to bed to catch up on sleep I desperately need. **

**What is this "summer" I keep hearing about? I seem to have skipped it.**

**Also, this has absolutely nothing o do with fanfiction, but who was watching the FIFA World Cup? Did you guys see the USA vs. Portugal game? Did you see that last shot?! What was that?! USA was so close to winning and then in the last TWENTY-FIVE SECONDS of the game we get Cristiano Ronaldo with a cross so Varela can score. WHAT. IS. LIFE?**

**Anyway, I hope my dying brain isn't reflected in my writing. Enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: this world and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. **

"You're going to love Hogwarts," Sirius told his brother with a grin. Regulus had snuck into Sirius's room every day that summer without fail. He'd brought all sorts of food and had offered a brief source of entertainment – Sirius was ready to scratch his eyes out by the end of the summer. Regulus had always been much more reserved than Sirius, and he was close-mouthed about how his year had gone, but he listened with rapt attention as Sirius regaled him with stories of his year at Hogwarts.

The day he'd gotten his Hogwarts letter, Regulus had come _bouncing _in, brandishing the letter like a trophy, and ever since then, he had seemed a lot happier. Sirius was now steering him through the platform to get onto the train; their parents had dropped them off at the platform entrance several minutes previously.

Sirius scanned the train impatiently, glancing through the compartments to see where his friends were. "Sirius!" called a familiar voice, and Sirius looked up to see James sprinted down the aisle towards him. He grabbed him excitedly by the shoulders. "Mate! It's so good to see you. Come on, we've got the same compartment as last time. Remus and Peter are already there."

James led Sirius to their compartment, his mind reeling from the sight he'd seen. His friend was horribly pale, and it looked like he'd lost weight, too. Remus had lost weight as well, although he at least had a healthy tan. James wondered what his friends' summers had been like – he had thought _his _summer was awful, but Remus and Sirius looked as if they'd died several times within the last two months.

Remus looked up as the compartment door slid open and James and Sirius entered. "Hey," he greeted Sirius, his gaze missing nothing as he took in the way Sirius's perfectly tailored black robes hung slightly off his frame. Whatever had happened to Sirius over the summer, it hadn't been good.

"Hey," Sirius answered as he sat down, not failing to miss anything about Remus's appearance, either. He had a new scar just under his jaw and he had lost a terrible amount of weight and was now even skinnier than he had previously been.

Their gazes locked, and they both remembered the last words they had exchanged before summer began – _good luck_ – and wondered exactly what the other was dealing with. "Here," Remus said abruptly, directing his sharp green gaze towards Peter. "Peter's got our stack of letters if you want them. Some of them got pretty funny, if you want to a detailed version of our summers."

"Although," James said with a grin as Peter passed the letters over, "you've got us now, and the real thing's so much better than our witty selves in writing. It's like having a front-row seat to a performance as opposed to a CD of the band."

Sirius rolled his eyes, and James sat up straighter. "So," he said, clearing his throat. "First order of business: a welcome feast prank."

* * *

Sirius watched anxiously as the first years lined up in front of the Sorting Hat. He was hoping against hope that Regulus would be a Gryffindor. He knew his brother wasn't brave; wasn't daring or noble or anything like Sirius himself, but he was a good kid. He wasn't cruel or elitist; he was just an innocent kid.

"Regulus Black!" Sirius watched, tensed, as Regulus straightened his shoulders and stepped forward, raising his head up proudly in the air, not letting his terror – which Sirius could discern from the edgy feeling around Regulus and his clenched fists – show.

Regulus sat on the stool and the Hat went over his head. It was there for a long time, and Regulus had an expression on his face that was half baffled and half irritated. Sirius held his breath, feeling increasingly hopeful – so his brother was _not _the pure Slytherin he had always believed him to be.

And then Regulus tilted his head negligently, dark locks falling into his eyes, and the Sorting Hat declared, "SLYTHERIN!" Sirius's heart plummeted as he watched Regulus move to take the Hat off – and then pause, seemingly listening to a few last words from the Hat.

Sirius averted his gaze, determined not to let either his brother or his friends glimpse the disappointment in his eyes. As he stared resolutely at the floor, listening to his rival House welcome his brother into their ranks, he felt James put his hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, mate," James said softly. "I know you wanted him to here – but the Sorting Hat never makes mistakes. If your brother is in Slytherin, that is where he belongs. He'll be better off there."

Sirius swallowed. "You don't understand," he said desperately. "He's a good kid, and that House will corrupt him and twist his heart until he is just another Black, thinking he's royalty because he's a pureblood and spitting on those lower than him. Slytherins don't have any loyalty; they're backstabbing, calculating, cold-hearted monsters."

Remus met his gaze steadily. "Don't generalize," he said firmly. "They can't all be that bad. Some of them are real gems, I know, but your brother won't necessarily come out inherently evil. My Mum always says that evil is a choice, not a quality."

Sirius looked crushed. "And if he makes the wrong choice? Regulus isn't like us, Remus – he doesn't have the strength to make his own decisions. He's a follower, not a rebel, and he's going to follow the rest of them into a place with no redemption."

_Then maybe he wasn't meant to be saved, _thought Remus, but he didn't say it aloud. Sirius wouldn't understand that sometimes people had to bear curses that would twist them and darken them, and whether they did or did not deserve it, it was theirs to keep until it took them to their deaths.

"You act like Slytherin is a death sentence," he said instead.

Sirius looked down. "But it is," he answered softly. "It is."

Remus and James locked eyes above Sirius's head. Surprisingly, it was Peter who spoke next, his voice quieter yet more certain than usual. "You shouldn't have turned away," he said, not tearing his gaze away from the Slytherin table.

"What?" asked Sirius, startled. His eyes were a stormy, furious grey, and his expression was stony as he narrowed them at Peter.

Peter really should have known better, but he felt he needed to say it, so he went ahead, ignoring the consequences. "The first thing he did when he sat down was look at you," Peter said stubbornly, "and you turned away. He kept staring at you as people congratulated him, and then he clenched his jaw and turned away with that determined look you always get to accept the Slytherins' congratulations. Anyone looking closely would have seen it."

And this, thought Remus, was why Peter was a Gryffindor. When he was tired of being a tagalong and had something he truly wanted to say or do, he would go through with it even knowing he might later regret it, and that was what separated Gryffindor from Slytherin.

James was staring at Peter open-mouthed, but Sirius glared at him, nearly shaking with anger. "Don't," he snarled, "pretend like you know my brother. You don't know _anything._"

And Peter, who had spent a lifetime observing people, clamped his mouth shut and looked down. "Sorry," he muttered.

The four friends sat in silence as the Sorting ended, Dumbledore said a few words, and the feast began. And even when the food appeared and began to grow mouths, singing the school song in a ridiculously out-of-tune choir and people around them laughed and applauded the prank and McGonagall fixed with a look, allowing the song to finish before giving them detention, they couldn't bring themselves to ignore the way Peter was quitter than usual, James and Remus were exchanging looks every five seconds from behind Sirius's back, and Sirius had a thinly veiled expression of misery adorning his face.

The year did not seem to be off to a promising start.

* * *

Sirius threw his head back and laughed, reveling in the feeling of being back with his friends at Hogwarts. They had just stumbled out of a Transfiguration, feeling gleeful after a successful prank (which McGonagall had tried in vain to stop before giving them detention again).

James's laughter broke off abruptly, and he nudged Sirius in the shoulder. "Ah, Sirius? I think you should see this."

Sirius looked up in confusion to see Narcissa Malfoy striding towards him, her face expressionless and her manner cold and aloof, but there was a warning look in her eyes that seemed to mingle with pity.

And then his eyes fell on the figure just behind Narcissa – Regulus. "Oh, Merlin," he murmured, his heart sinking. Several Gryffindors hung back, gathering surreptitiously around the four. _This _was what Sirius had always wanted to avoid – he would not associate with the other Blacks at school, and he would not consort with Slytherins. It was like fraternizing with the enemy.

But this was his brother. Sirius avoided his friends' gazes and resisted the urge to hit himself as Regulus scrambled up to him. "Sirius," gasped his little brother, seeming not to notice their audience. Out of the corner of his eyes, Sirius saw Narcissa clench her jaw and move closer to Regulus, almost protectively. It was obvious she had tried to talk him out of it.

"What are you doing here, Regulus?" Sirius asked coolly, and Regulus stopped short, straightening. His keen expression died down as his face fell.

"You hate me, don't you," said Regulus, looking up at his brother. "You hate me because I'm not a Gryffindor."

Sirius clenched a fist in frustration. Was Regulus _stupid?_ What the hell was he doing, asking this in public like that? Weren't Slytherins supposed to be masters of discretion? "I don't hate you," he said shortly.

A tiny spark of hope entered into Regulus's eyes, and Sirius couldn't bring himself to crush it. "Look," he said, "I've got to go now."

Regulus bit his lip before immediately freezing and restructuring his expression so it mirrored Narcissa's. He said nothing as Sirius turned and strode purposefully away, leaving Regulus standing there staring after him.

When they were alone, Sirius raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "He should know better than that!" he exclaimed, turning to face his friends. "What was he thinking?"

"Are you just not going to associate with him, then?" Remus demanded. "He _is _your brother."

Sirius looked at him. "You know how it is. I'm a Gryffindor; he's a Slytherin. If he wants to have any friends in that House – even fake friends, since they don't seem to value real friendship in that place – he's going to have to stop seeming like a Gryffindor-sympathizer. He won't survive the week like this."

"Agreed," James said. "And neither will you. You've got us, and the rest of our House likes you fine, but only because we've seen that you aren't just another nasty Black. If they think you're getting on with them again . . ."

"But he's your brother," Remus insisted, glancing at Peter. "Peter, back me up. You've got to let him down easy, Sirius. Don't reject him in front of everyone. He'll be crushed. You saw the way he was looking at you."

Peter hesitated before nodding. "He's right."

Sirius glared at him again and clenched his jaw, looking at James. "I'll just avoid him," he decided. "He's my brother, and I won't be cruel to him, but he's got to know that it isn't going to be the same anymore."

And they found themselves in another silence before Sirius said in frustration, "Are we really going to be like this over my _brother? _He hasn't got anything to do with us! What do you say we go for a fly like old times?"

And just like that, the tension was dissolved and they spent the rest of the next several hours outside.

* * *

James hopped up and down, wishing that he had misread the notice board – perhaps it didn't say _Friday, September 14__th__ – GRYFFINDOR QUIDDITCH TRYOUTS FOR POSITIONS BEATER & TWO CHASERS! (Reminder: first years can't and will never be allowed on the team.)_

Perhaps it was really for the year 2014 or some other ridiculous futuristic year that would never come in a billion years when likely Quidditch would be played by high-tech robotic brooms and the stands would not be necessary because wizards would develop a charm for levitation _all the time_.

Sirius took a deep breath. "All right, mate," he said. "This is it. If I don't replace Robert Wood as Beater this year, I will die a horrific death. I'll die young or something awful like that!"

James eyed him suspiciously. "Are you trying to threaten yourself into making the team?"

Sirius shrugged, and James stared at him with raised eyebrows. ". . . does it work?"

Sirius grinned. "Not really. But I find I work better under threat, because I've spent most of my life that way. Puts me at ease."

"Right," said James, nodding as if this made any sense at all. Remus hit himself over the head with a book.

"I'll be past saving by the time we graduate," he moaned. "They'll have to move me into an asylum for those driven stupid by idiots they were unfortunate enough to call friends."

"Fine," Sirius said haughtily. "Come on, James! We're never speaking to this git again!"

Remus might have panicked at this in first year, but he knew now that they didn't mean a word they were saying. "Fine," he said easily. "You'll just have nobody to copy your Charms homework off of."

Sirius looked briefly horrified, but Peter stood up for him. "And you'll have no one to help me salvage our Potions," he retorted, sounding pleased with himself. "And then where will you be?"

Remus imagined a future:

_"__So, I was wondering if I could get a teaching job, Professor Dumbledore."_

_"__. . . Mr. Lupin, you failed Potions. (Also, you're a werewolf)."_

_"__But Professor! It wasn't my fault! That class was a sentient monster out to get me!" _

_"__. . . you made straight Ts. Every. Year."_

_"__. . . at least I'm of the generic troll variety! I _could _have been a mountain troll. That would be absolutely awful. I've heard they're stupider than Snivellus – I mean, Severus – I mean, not that I think he's stupid, because he is, but I'm supposed to be the nice one, but – oh, merlin, James and Sirius have corrupted me!"_

_"__. . . perhaps you could go to an asylum."_

_"__To work?" _

_"__No. To live." _

_"__. . ."_

_"__. . ."_

_"__. . . Goodbye, Professor." _

"Oh my MERLIN!" he shouted suddenly, and Sirius, James, and Peter all turned to stare at him. Evidently they had entered into another conversation while he was off in a reverie. Remus took no notice of this. Instead, grabbing Sirius and James by the fronts of their robes, he wailed, "Don't _ever _stop helping me in Potions! I'm too innocent for an asylum! Too sane! I can't do it! Professor Dumbledore can never!"

Sirius and James exchanged bewildered glances, and Lily Evans, who was passing by them, gave Remus an alarmed look before marching towards them, dragging Hestia Jones beside her. After taking one look at Remus, Hestia tried to sneak away, but Lily grabbed her by the collar and pulled her back without looking.

"You!" she fumed, pointing an accusatory finger at James and Peter. "What have you done to Remus? Whatever it is, make it stop!"

"We haven't done anything!" James protested indignantly. "He just – Sirius?"

Sirius shook his head emphatically. "No idea, honestly! We just said something about potions and he was in a daze for a bit, and when he came back he grabbed us and started babbling about Dumbledore and an insane asylum!"

It was at this exact moment that said professor came around the corner, just in time to hear the words _Dumbledore and an insane asylum_. "Well, Mr. Black," he said pleasantly. "I do hope that I'd never find myself in such a place, but I assure you that if it were to happen, it would not be any time soon."

Sirius's mouth fell open as he gaped at the Headmaster, and Lily, Hestia, James, Peter, and Remus, who had shaken off the horror of his vision of the future, suppressed bouts of hysterical laughter. "I – I –"

"No need to apologize, Mr. Black. Now, I trust you're going to the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts, judging from your brooms?"

Sirius stared for another moment before blurting out, "But I wasn't going to apologize!"

Professor Dumbledore look surprised for a moment. "Well, I _did _say there was no need. . ." And with a meaningful look directed at Sirius, he walked off, leaving Sirius gaping after him like a fish.

He was still in a daze when they got to the Quidditch pitch, but he shook it off and grasped his broom determinedly when he saw the Gryffindor Quidditch team on the pitch, each member negligently leaning against their brooms in various positions of self-assurance – they were already on the team; the stress was on those trying out to hold up to their expectations.

"That's Belicia Cory," Sirius said in awe, staring at the newly appointed Captain. She had her eyes narrowed, considering the group of Gryffindors in front of her. Arching her eyebrows at a scrawny pair of first years, she jerked her head towards the castle.

"Off the pitch," she ordered, sounding thoroughly bored with them. "No first years on the team."

"All right," called Belicia once the first years had left. "Beaters line up. This is going to be a rough practice; anyone who wants to replace Wood has to match his standards, and we all know those standards are high!"

Sirius had an unidentifiable expression on his face. After a moment, Remus realized it was nervousness, which was why it was so foreign – Sirius liked to pretend he never got nervous. "She's right," he whispered frantically to James, "Robert Wood was brilliant enough to play professionally, what chance has a second year got?"

James pushed him towards the line without an answer. As they surveyed the competition, James leaned over to Remus. "What do you think?" he said thoughtfully.

Remus considered Sirius thoughtfully. He was very tall for a twelve-year-old, if not exactly muscular – yet. He also had uncommonly good reflexes and a knack for flying, as well as the suicidal tendencies and the willingness to kill himself to win, which was a trademark quality of Gryffindors and a highly valuable asset of the Gryffindor team – they won because they were "daring," which was just a euphemism for "unhealthily bent on winning with no regard to consequence or worries of self-harm."

Then he looked at the other contenders. Hestia Jones was another applicant for the Beater position, and Remus knew she was one hell of a Quidditch player – she came from a Quidditch based family, and she had incredible natural skill.

The other candidates were mainly third and fourth years. Some of them were so huge Remus thought it would be a miracle if they got off the ground, and others had the tall, lean, athletic build Sirius and Hestia possessed.

"He's definitely got Hestia to worry about," Remus said worriedly.

"Yeah," James agreed glumly. He had watched Hestia Jones fly while waiting to have the pitch for himself, and she was a stunning player. Sirius was uncontestably good, but Hestia . . . she was in another league altogether.

In all honesty, she was gifted with the natural skill James had. "Maybe," Peter ventured quietly, "it'll do him some good, losing."

James and Remus both rounded on him at that. "What was that supposed to mean, Peter?" James demanded furiously. "How can you call yourself his friend and stand there unbothered by the fact that he might lose when you know how much this means to him?"

Remus, who normally stood up for Peter, stared at him with a clenched jaw, his eyes narrowed in consideration. "I just thought," Peter dared, "that eventually he'll learn he can't be good at everything, and it's better if it's something like this than something really important."

James looked affronted. "Quidditch is important! And besides, he _is _good at Quidditch."

Peter looked at him mutinously, and both James and Remus were slightly taken aback. "He's got to learn to stop expecting to be the best at everything! Everything he tries comes easily to him, so he expects that nobody else will ever do better! He _expects _it; he doesn't even appreciate how easy everything is for him!"

James stared at Peter for several more seconds before turning his back on him resolutely. In his eyes, the worst crime one could commit was failure to stand up for a friend no matter how their prospects looked.

Remus, however, recognized what had driven Peter to speak. _Jealousy, _he thought, and that gave him a little insight into Peter's character. For whatever reason, Peter was used to being completely unremarkable in all things. He was average in almost everything, it was true, but everyone had something that individualized them.

Remus looked back at the pitch, where Hestia and Sirius were going at it. They had abandoned all drills and were throwing a bludger at each other at a furious pace, each trying to knock the other of their broom.

The bludger flew between them almost faster than the eye could follow until finally the bludger stopped itself and spun slightly higher. Both Sirius and Hestia were immediately after it, and they arrived at the exact same time, combining blows to throw it far off into the distance.

They stared after the bludger, which had started hurtling back towards them, before turning to look at each other with expressions of identical horror and shooting off the other way. They could taken the Cup for the most synchronized Beaters ever to fly a broom, the way they flew next.

Their instincts propelled them forward in uncanny tandem as they spiraled, weaving back and forth and occasionally swapping places as they danced to thwart the bludger. Seventh year Gryffindor Beater Greer Ceourdemer was staring transfixed. She looked like she'd fallen in love.

All of a sudden the bludger turned and dropped at them abruptly. Sirius and Hestia barely had a second to react. Sirius reacted first, executing a beautiful (though mildly suicidal) Crosse maneuver, one that the professional Nigerian Austin Mikel was famous for.

Hestia was slower, turning dangerously into the bludger. "She's going to hit," moaned Remus.

James, however, had his head tilted at an odd angle. "She's not going to hit," he said.

Remus turned to stare at him, wondering if he was crazy – and then froze as the bludger scraped by Hestia and went on to hit Sirius, who had flown behind her when he thought she was going to fall.

The entire team gasped in horror as Sirius was thrown violently off his broom – only to be caught by Hestia, who held out her hand for him to pull himself onto her broom with.

Captain Belicia Cory blew her whistle and gestured for them to come down as Sirius sprang off Hestia's broom and landed on his own. James flinched at the defeated look in his eyes.

"I want you both to know that you are two of the best applicants we've seen in years," Belicia told them firmly. "We haven't seen a display like that since –"

"Rob Wood," Greer interrupted, staring at Hestia and Sirius with a scary gleam in her eyes, "when he jumped off his broom to avoid a bludger that should have been unavoidable before stealing someone else's broom to get back to his."

"Exactly," said Belicia with a faint grin. "Now, that last maneuver . . . it's a really difficult decision, and you're both brilliant players, but I'll have to go with Hestia Jones."

Sirius stared at her stonily, his expression betraying nothing. There was something in his eyes, though, that made James want to hit something. "However," Belicia continued, and Sirius's head lifted slightly. "I refuse to waste talent like yours. Hestia may have had natural instinct that gave her the edge, but you – players like you don't come by often in second years. Imagine what you'll be when you play for us in your seventh year!"

Sirius's eyes widened at the word "when." Catching this, Belicia nodded. "You'll play reserve this year," she said, "and Greer will train you. Next year, when she graduates, the spot is yours."

Sirius nodded once, tightening his grip on his broomstick before they were dismissed. James clapped him on the shoulder before going for Chaser tryouts. "Mate, you were incredible," Remus told him earnestly, noting the crestfallen expression on Sirius's face.

"But she was better," Sirius answered, staring at Remus desperately, and Remus knew Peter was right. Sirius was used to being the best at everything he did, and tryouts had been a rude awakening for him.

A determined gleam entered Sirius's eyes, and Remus grinned. Sirius was obviously resolved to never be second-best at anything he tried ever again. "Congrats on making reserve, though. Next year you'll be brilliant on the pitch."

Sirius returned the grin and faced the pitch again, watching James. At the end of tryouts, the team stood: Captain Belicia Cory, Chaser; James Potter, Chaser; Marlene McKinnon, Chaser; Greer Ceourdemer, Beater; Hestia Jones, Beater; Spencer Daunting; Keeper, and Elliot Blake, Seeker.

And that was the beginning of one of the most legendary stretches in Gryffindor Quidditch history.


	8. Chapter 8

**I can't even _begin _to apologize for the wait this time; three weeks when previously I've always updated within two-three days, at the latest five. I'm honestly busier in the summer than I am during the school year (I really wish I could go on holiday, but unfortunately me and summer are not to be). Miserable excuse, I know, so I hope the chapter makes up for it. **

**Reviews are always appreciated :D**

**Disclaimer: this world and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. **

"Twenty points to Gryffindor!" Slughorn awarded them. Sirius and James exchanged grins, and Snape spluttered with outrage from behind them.

"Professor!" he protested. "Lily and I did the potion, too, _and _we modified it to reduce the drowsiness! That isn't fair!"

Professor Slughorn looked at him in surprise. Before he could say a word, though, Remus spoke up. "Of course it is," he said mildly. "It's written clearly on the board: 'Twenty points are to be awarded to the pair that successfully finishes the potion first.' James and Sirius did it first, and they were successful. If you wanted the points, you shouldn't have tried to modify it unnecessarily."

Professor Slughorn nodded reluctantly at Snape. "It must be admitted that I set the task for this specific potion, _without _modifications. I'm sure if asked, these boys could modify it themselves, brilliant as they are." He beamed at Sirius and James, who grinned cheerfully at Snape.

Remus exchanged a glance with Peter. Did they _have _to provoke him like that? Professor Slughorn walked away, deeming the matter finished, and Snape gave Remus, James, and Sirius a sullen glare. "I hate them," he muttered to Lily, who frowned. "Teachers are always showing them favoritism. The bloody gits think they're royalty, strutting around the school–"

"Severus!" Lily said in disapproval. "Honestly, what's gotten into you lately? All you seem to do is scowl and call people – especially them – awful names. You know as well as I do they earned those twenty points."

"Oh yes, I suppose _you _wouldn't mind," Snape said nastily. "You're in their House."

Lily stared at him in shock. "Why are you being like this? Is it one of the other Slytherins–"

"Yeah, because we're all scum of the earth," he sneered, and Lily shut her book with a thud, shoving it into her bag as class ended.

"Fine," she snapped, "be a git. I'll see you when you've decided to act like a civil human being again!"

"But he's _not _a civil human being," James muttered to Sirius, catching the last comment.

Hearing this, Lily whirled, pointing a finger at him. "Shut up, Potter," she said furiously, giving him a look of deep disgust, and then she was gone.

James gave Sirius a bewildered look. Sirius shrugged in answer, and they made their way out of the classroom. "It's true, anyway," said James as they walked. "He _purposefully _seeks us out, trying to get points docked or another detention for us whenever he can. What's his problem?"

"I reckon you didn't exactly start off on the right foot," Peter said wisely. They had all heard the story of how James and Sirius met Snape on the train many times.

"Well, whose fault was that?" Sirius asked crossly. "The way he was going on about the _ever _so _exalted _Slytherin House and how Gryffindors are all brawn and no brain."

"Because you were _ever _so _respectful _when talking about Slytherin House?" Remus retorted.

"All I said was that I wouldn't want to be a Slytherin!" James protested. "I mean, would you?"

"Not in a lifetime," Remus admitted.

"Exactly. Anyway, I think we should teach him not to try and mess with us," James announced, eyeing Snape, who was walking in front of them, distrustfully.

Remus knew by now that their pranks, though sometimes rather humiliating, never did any real harm. "What do you propose?" he asked.

"Shampoo joke again?" Peter suggested.

"No," Remus, James, and Sirius chorused. "Those are overused by now," Remus added, by way of explanation. "We've got to think of something creative and new."

Sirius narrowed his eyes at the figure in front of them, watching as Snape turned a corner. "I say we follow him. Maybe if we can get into the Slytherin common room –"

He broke off as they rounded the corner as well, only to find Snape talking to three other Slytherins. "Lovely," Sirius muttered. "The greasy git is joined by three fellow slimy snakes." He pulled out his wand and shouted, "_Tentaclifors!" _He repeated the spell, aiming for each of the Slytherins.

The three unknown Slytherins were smaller targets and fast on their feet, but Snape wasn't so lucky. A spell hit him, and his head was replaced by a slimy tentacle. Immediately, the other three Slytherins whipped their wands out and turned to face them, standing shoulder to shoulder.

Sirius's expression turned shocked as his eyes fell on the Slytherin in the middle – Regulus. Not only had he just attacked first years, he had attacked his own brother. "Gryffindors," said the Slytherin on Regulus's right. His dark brown hair was tousled adorably, and his oceanic green eyes were clear and innocent. Sirius felt a surge of guilt.

"They weren't exaggerating," the girl on Regulus's left said incredulously. "They're prats!" She stared at them through a mass of unmanageably wild black curls, gripping her wand tightly.

What bothered Sirius, though, was the betrayed look on Regulus's face. Averting his gaze, Regulus reached down to pull Snape up. Immediately, the boy on his right took Snape's other side, and the girl kept her wand on them distrustfully. Granted, if they couldn't reverse the jinx on Snape, they probably couldn't do him any harm, either – they _were _first years – and Sirius didn't think the older Slytherins would bother.

He was wrong. "Watch out," said Regulus, and Sirius stared at him in shock. Was his brother _threatening _him? He wouldn't dare! "We're Slytherins – we look after our own. The older Slytherins won't like what you've done to Snape."

"No to mention attacking first years," the girl said disgustedly, tossing the curly mass atop her head. "They'll get you back for this!" And the four Slytherins left.

That was how the Gryffindors and Slytherins found themselves in a war of sorts—in which they resorted to nasty hexes in the corridors and pranking—one which the Gryffindors were sure they would win. How could they not; they had James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew on their side!

Sirius quickly forgot that it was he who started it when what he saw as the first attack happened at breakfast the next day. Really, it was Regulus who did it – Sirius had been eating his breakfast peacefully when the morning post came – and with it, a Howler.

Sirius stared in horror at the quivering red envelope in front of him. "Does anything happen if you set it on fire?" Peter asked, eyeing the Howler. All four of them knew exactly who the Howler was from.

Before Sirius could answer, however, it exploded, and his mother's voice came shrieking out:

"SIRIUS – ORION – BLACK! HOW _DARE _YOU ATTACK YOUR BROTHER LIKE THAT! I'VE BEEN TOLD EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED, AND I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED WITH YOU, PREYING ON YOUR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD LIKE THAT – AND A FIRST YEAR, THAT TOO! YOUR _LITTLE BROTHER_! HAVE YOU NO SENSE OF LOYALTY?! HE WAS WALKING THROUGH A CORRIDOR WITH HIS FRIENDS AND YOU HAVE THE _NERVE _TO ATTACK HIM? YOU AND THAT AWFUL _POTTER BOY, _ALONG WITH _LUPIN _AND THE OTHER BOY! HOW **DARE **YOU!"

Sirius sat frozen, listening to his mother yell at him. He was trembling with rage. What right did she have to speak so righteously? And family loyalty – Regulus had _told! _Where was the loyalty in that?

Scowling, Sirius sent a venomous glare at his brother, who had a blank look on his face – there wasn't even a trace of remorse! Sirius snorted derisively and turned away. "I'm honored," James quipped, trying to distract him. "She included us in the Howler, too!"

Sirius glared at the ashy remnants of the letter as the stunned silence of the Great Hall was broken by the sound of the Slytherins' jeering laughter. The Gryffindors around him clapped him on the shoulder in sympathy, but Lily Evans looked absolutely furious.

"You obviously deserved it!" she told him, sniffing. "Sev told me what you did to him. It's utterly despicable!"

James's mouth dropped open in outrage. "You can't honestly be saying you think he _deserved a Howler!_ And you call us awful!"

Lily gave him a cold look before turning away. Surprisingly, Marlene McKinnon, who was sitting to the right of her, frowned at Sirius as well. "I reckon she's right," she said, shrugging. "I hate the Slytherins as much as the next decent person, but I thought my Housemates would be above attacking first years unprovoked."

James felt a slight pang of guilt. "Well, yeah," he muttered, "we shouldn't attack first years. But we would never have if we knew! Honestly!"

Sirius stabbed a fork into his food. "Exactly," he said with a decisive nod. "We've got to get them back."

"_No_," said Remus, dropping his fork. It wasn't one of his better days. He looked exhausted—there were dark circles under his eyes, and he was ghastly pale beneath his tan. "You've already hexed first years. They haven't done anything direct, and it wasn't even attack from the entire house. I don't think it was meant to be an attack at all. It's not worth it."

"We're not going to target the first years," James pointed out easily. "Really, just the older Slytherins. And we're not killing them, it's a prank war. It'll be fun. Right, mate?" He looked to Sirius, who seemed a little cheered.

"Peter?"

"I think it'll be fun," said Peter eagerly. "I love planning those. As long as we avoid the seventh years. Bloody terrifying, those seventh years."

Remus frowned. "But—"

"We're doing it," Sirius insisted. "We'll do it alone if you don't want to, Rem, but we're doing it. It's three to one. We have voted. The decision has been made. The—"

"Fine," Remus said tiredly. There _was _something satisfying in seeing a prank done right. "They'll be harmless?"

"Of course," Sirius said smoothly, a gleam entering his eye.

Remus was not reassured. "All right," he said anyway, brightening up slightly at the prospect. A twin gleam entered his own eyes, and he looked thoughtfully at the Slytherins. James mirrored his expression, looking somewhat gleeful, the Howler forgotten but not forgiven.

Peter eyed the Slytherins thoughtfully—he was good at reading body language. "You look better," he mused aloud to Remus. Remus whipped back around, staring at him.

"What?"

"You looked sick earlier," Peter supplied. "Didn't he?"

"You did," James said thoughtfully, looking to Remus. "Nothing hexing a few Slytherins couldn't fix, obviously."

Remus shifted uncomfortably. "Right. I just didn't get a good night's sleep last night."

"If you wouldn't wake up so early—" Peter began, and Remus rolled his eyes.

"Just because we have to drag you out of bed—"

"Oh, do we need to mention Fridays?"

"Speaking of which, that's tomorrow, which gives us plenty of time to plan our Christmas prank. We've got—what, eleven days? Eleven days until Christmas, and families go home on the 23rd, which means we'll have to do it on the 21st at night so it'll be ready for the 22nd . . . that's next Friday."

"Oh, brilliant!" said Remus eagerly. "I'll actually have something to look forward to on that Merlin-awful day."

And so they spent their Friday planning in the safety of their dormitory, where they practiced all sorts of complicated spells. Remus had smuggled enough books past Madam Pince to build their own library, and James had created a bulletin of sorts that floated around the room, coming to them when they had something to add and even offering helpful suggestions.

Frank, who knew better than to interrupt them when they were like this, had taken to spending all his time outside, and as this behavior continued through the weekend, he took to sleeping in the common room in front of the fire.

The four felt slightly guilty about this, but Frank assured them that he slept easier without James's loud snores (to which James protested that he most certainly did _not _snore, a claim which was immediately refuted by the others with much vehemence).

By Wednesday, all preparations were nearly complete and they were putting the finishing touches on the plan. "Are we prepared to do some _Sirius _magic?" Peter asked with a grin, knowing what the others' reaction to the old joke would be.

He wasn't disappointed. Immediately, three pillows were thrown at him with enough force to knock him off his bed. He sat up, pushing a pillow off his face. "Remus, are you all right?" he asked suddenly, peering at his friend.

Remus was deathly pale. Dark circles had started to appear under his eyes again, and he was shivering slightly despite the warmth of the room. He looked away guiltily, cursing himself for not realizing earlier. "I—I can't do the Christmas prank tomorrow night."

"What?" Sirius asked sharply. "Why not?"

Remus stared at the ground. "I've got to visit my Mum again tonight," he muttered. "I won't be back in time." The full moon was that night—how could he have forgotten? _Stupid, _he berated himself.

There was silence, and when Remus looked up, all three of them were staring at him disconsolately. "We'll have to find a way to get your parts done, then," James said finally.

"Sorry," Remus said miserably, averting his gaze again.

"Whatever, mate." And they began fixing the plan.

That night was awful for Remus; his mood was often reflected in his transformation, and the wolf attacked him that night with a bitter vengeance. He was unconscious for all the rest of the next day and woke up only after midnight.

Remus was the only one in the hospital wing at that time, so Madam Pomfrey moved him out of his usual private area of the wing and onto one of the regular cots, opening a window above him so he might get some fresh air.

As he stared up at the ceiling of the hospital wing, his entire body aching awfully, all he could think was that somewhere in the castle, James and Sirius and Peter were having the time of their lives. Sometime after that he fell asleep again, and after checking on him one last time Madam Pomfrey retired. If she had stayed a minute longer, she might have waited upon hearing three young voices.

"Oh, c'mon, James; there's not going to be anyone here—"

Sirius froze at the sight in front of him: Remus was lying on a cot in front of them, his body battered and bloodied and bruised. He was wrapped in so many bandages that he'd appear mummified if not for the robes he wore over them, and many of the bandages were pink from his blood.

He looked almost unreal in his sleep, as if he had been painted; his long lashes brushed his cheek, creating long shadows that stroked his face in the starlight falling through the open window. His mouth was slightly open, showing perfect teeth, and his hair fell almost artfully across his forehead.

The image was ruined by the red tingeing the bandages that disappeared underneath his collar and sleeves; the dark bruise that marred his face across his cheekbone; the nasty, deep cut on his palm; the sheen of sweat on his dangerously pale skin.

"Oh, Merlin," whispered James in horror.

Peter stared. "What happened to him? I thought he was supposed to be visiting his Mum."

"Yeah, he left at 5:00 earlier today, didn't he; something about wanting to leave before dark?"

"He must have gone and come back already," Sirius realized, looking towards the others. "I've had this theory for a while now, but it's almost the only explanation possible now. He always comes back from his visits with new injuries, right? And he usually stays for a couple days? Typically a visit would only be for a day, I reckon—if his injuries are this bad, he must come back here to get better."

"But how would he get injured so badly, and why would Madam Pomfrey help him try to hide it?"

"Because I think he's abused," Sirius answered quietly. He clenched his jaw. "Listen, James—I've seen bad injuries before, I know this stuff, and I'm almost sure of it—his father must abuse him, and Remus tries to hide it, understandably."

James didn't ask what made Sirius so sure that he could recognize a situation like this. With that hint of understanding, perceptiveness, empathy, and tact he only reserved for his friends, he turned to Remus's unconscious form and asked softly, "But why is Madam Pomfrey helping him hide it? Why don't they try to stop it?"

He couldn't fathom coming from a family like that. His parents adored him and, admittedly, spoiled him a little. Even Peter, who hadn't grown up nearly as well off as James, had grown up in a loving family.

James, obviously upset, turned to Sirius. "We have to talk to—"

"_No_," Sirius said fiercely. "Don't tell anyone, don't talk to any professors; just don't. If he's here, then they already know, which means . . . there's nothing they can do about it." He looked sick. "Please just don't, James. Trust me."

"All right," James agreed quietly.

"We should go finish the prank," Peter said solemnly, looking at Remus. "Come on. We can come visit him later."

"No," James and Sirius chorused firmly. Sirius glared at Peter. "We're not leaving him here. We can finish the prank in the morning before Madam Pomfrey comes back and the students start to wake. We're almost done, anyway."

So they sat there together at Remus's bedside, none of them uttering a single word, until the first rays of daylight illuminated the room and Madam Pomfrey's footsteps sounded outside the door. And as students ran through the snow-filled corridors, large enchanted snowmen bouncing around throwing sweets at them, Remus Lupin woke up to see a pile of his favorite chocolate at his bedside table.


End file.
